


I see lives that could have been saved

by Ozpin_Lover_MP



Series: Beacons of Vale [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, mentioned drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-10-02 00:33:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20449991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozpin_Lover_MP/pseuds/Ozpin_Lover_MP
Summary: This is the story of how Oobleck became the man he is today. The story of the lives that could have been saved. The story of his experiences as a child, at Beacon, and as an adult.





	1. Prologue

Thirty or so years before the fall of Vale, Mountain Glenn was new. It stood tall and proud; a new expansion of Vale. 

In the middle of the city was a small apartment, owned by the Ooblecks. 

Two boys sat in their living room flat, drawing. Well, the elder one, Theo, was drawing. His younger brother Bartholomew didn’t quite have the knack for art, being only five, and had resorted to scribbling all over the page. 

Bartholomew then took the page, and a piece of tape, and stuck it to his front. “I’m a huntsman,” he declared, standing up. “And I have magic green armour,” 

“Mhm,” Theo mumbled, still concentrating on his drawing. It was a vase of flowers that he’d seen earlier. Although his drawing wasn’t very good, he hoped their Ma would like it. 

Bartholomew tapped Theo on the shoulder. “Play with me?” he asked. 

Theo shook his head, “I gotta finish this drawing for Ma,” 

Barty pouted and sat down heavily. “But I need a Grimm to fight,”

Theo continued to draw. 

“Pleeeeeeseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?” Barty whined. 

Theo glanced up at his face and his heart fell. He could never deny his little brother what he wanted. Barty was just too cute, too pure. “Well alright,” he conceded, before leaping up, “Grrrr! I’m a Beowolf!” 

Barty shrieked in delight, ran over to the sofa, and grabbed a cushion to use as a weapon. 

From the end of the room, their parents looked on in amusement. 

“Somebody takes after his Ma,” their Da laughed. 

“Well, so long as he doesn’t actually become a huntsman,” their Ma, replied. “I’d hate to see him follow in my footsteps,” 

“Would that be so bad?” Da asked. 

Ma shrugged. “It’s dangerous… but I will not stop him if that’s what he truly wants,” 

“He’s still young. For now, let them play,” 

…

Ma danced around the room, with Barty in her arms. 

Barty giggled as she bopped him on the nose with her finger. 

“You like dancing, do you?” the woman asked. 

Barty nodded. “Again, again!”

“You know, you could be a dancer when you're big!” she exclaimed, twirling around the room, “In fact, you can be whatever you want to be!” 

Suddenly Theo ran into the room. “Ma- ma- there’s a Grimm outside!” 

“What?!” Ma shrieked, immediately stopping her dance. 

Theo looked scared. “It’s true! I saw it out of the window!” 

At that moment, there was an alarm. 

The lady sighed. “Not again,” 

The TV automatically turned on, and a reporter appeared. “Alarming news-” he started ”-the Mountain Glenn has been breached. All evacuations are being moved up to this afternoon ”

Ma gasped, and the youngest son started to wail. 

“We ask that everyone make their way to the train station immediately, so that evacuations may commence. This is no time to be packing personal belongings or taking mementoes. Everyone must leave now.” 

“Momma- do we have to leave now?” the older one asked. 

Ma nodded, taking his hand. “Yes, Theo. We’ve talked about evacuation before right? Now it’s the real thing,” 

“Evac-evacation?” the youngest asked, before starting to wail. 

Ma turned to look at him, “Hush now Barty, it’ll be alright. You’ve got to be brave,” 

The three of them made their way to the front door, taking some emergency backpacks that were sitting by it in case of an event such as this. 

Down the steps of the apartment they flew, meeting plenty of frantic people on the way. They ran out of a lobby and onto the street. There was a giant Ursa already on the corner. It was obvious to anyone that they would not be able to escape. 

The woman froze for a moment, considering her options. Screams echoed in the background as she stood there, watching the Ursa. 

Slowly, the woman let go of Theo’s hand and passed him the tiny Barty. 

“Take care of him,” she whispered. “I’m going to buy you some time. Run to the station. You remember where daddy’s office is? Go in there. He’ll evacuate you,” 

“What about you?” Theo whispered back. 

His mother ruffled his hair and picked up a broom that was lying on the side of the street. “I love you my sweet. I’ll always be with you in your heart. Now go. Go!” 

Theo ran. 

…


	2. Yalé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their Uncle is not... the nicest person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for implied child abuse in this chapter.

Theo made it safely to their Da’s office, and from there the three of them escaped in a freight train to Vale. There were some of the only survivors. 

They left the train late that night, in downtown Vale, with nothing but the bags on their backs. Da had resorted to carrying both of them until they found a good spot to sleep. 

“I’m tired,” Theo whispered.

“Me too,” Barty agreed. 

Da looked around. They were below the train track, in a large empty backstreet. “We may as well rest here- this spot is as good as any,” 

Theo wriggled onto the floor and plonked himself down, sitting against a pillar. “I’m hungry,” 

Da sighed and sat down next to him. “I know. I’m sorry. We’ll go and get some food in the morning,” 

“Will we have to steal again?” Theo asked. They had stolen some food earlier on the train since Ma had been carrying all of the edible supplies. 

“Probably,” 

Theo frowned at the floor and folded his arms. “I don’t like stealing,” he decided. 

“Me neither,” Da replied sadly, “Me neither,” 

…

Over the next few months, the small family built their house below the train tracks. Many other refugees from Mountain Glenn and other fallen cities joined them, creating an entire neighbourhood of poorly built shacks. They were assembled with sheets of metal, planks of wood and pieces of tarpaulin. Not the comfiest place to stay, but it was home. 

Barty liked his home well enough. It wasn’t as nice as their old home, and it didn’t have Ma… But at least he got to choose how to decorate his end of the room. Anytime he drew a picture: or found an old poster or an interesting scrap of fabric, Theo and Da would help him put it up. 

Barty sat on the steps, playing with some interesting looking rocks. 

Suddenly, his Da and another man who looked somewhat like him walked around the corner. They were mid-discussion but stopped when they saw Barty. 

“Barty!” Barty’s dad said happily, “Come and meet your uncle Yalé,” 

“So you’re my nephew, huh?” Yalé asked, squatting down next to Barty. 

Bartholomew looked up at him with his huge, curious eyes. “What’s a nephew?” he asked. 

“It’s what you are!” Yalé exclaimed, ruffling his hair. 

“Yalé here is going to help us build our house properly; out of bricks and mortar,” Da explained, “So he’ll be staying with us for a while,” 

“Mortar?” 

“Rocks,” his Da clarified. 

Little Bartholomew leapt up and handed his uncle one of his pebbles. “For the house!” he said, “I can help you find more!”

...

Although it was beneficial having two adults in the household, they were able to afford proper beds and start expanding their house with more reliable materials, it soon became apparent that Yalé was not an ideal role-model. He was quick to anger, and slow at understanding, and often went to the bar to get drunk. 

Bartholomew’s Da was at work all day, and by the time he came home, Yalé had gone to bed. This meant that Da never saw Yalé's bad behaviour. Bartholomew and Theo did consider talking to their Da about it, but in the end, they decided not to. Their Day had enough to worry about. They could put up with a bit of shouting. 

Progressively, Yalé got worse. 

One day, Yalé came home reeking of alcohol. He was moving sloppily, knocking things over and not paying attention to his surroundings. He tripped over Theo's schoolbag and cursed loudly. 

Bartholomew heard what was going on, and crept to the door of his room. 

"Theodore! Get it here right now!" Yalé boomed. 

Theo ran to the kitchen. "Yes, uncle?" 

"What is the meaning of this?" Yalé demanded, "trying to trip me up? I'll teach you a lesson!" 

Bartholomew couldn't watch as Yalé beat Theo. Instead, he ran and hid under his bed. Why was Yalé beating Theo? How could he? Theo hadn’t done anything wrong! Bartholomew put his hands over his ears, trying to block out the noise. 

A few minutes later, Theo crept into his room, crying, and climbed under the bed with him. He had a purple bruise on his face, and Bartholomew suspected that more were forming under his clothes. 

"Don't tell Da, " Theo begged, "please, " 

"But if I tell Da he can sort the problem out, " Bartholomew pointed out. 

Theo shook his head. "Yalé said… if you tell Da then he'll beat me again… and… you, "

Bartholomew could only hug his older brother, horrified. What on earth was he supposed to do? 

…

Bartholomew was curled up on the couch, reading when Yalé came home early. Theo wasn’t back from school yet, as it was barely 3’o’clock. 

“Why isn’t dinner on the table!?” Yalé thundered. Great. He was drunk. 

Bartholomew silently closed his book and started to make his way towards his bedroom. A floorboard creaked. Yalé turned. 

“You!” Yalé asked, “Where’s my dinner? You’ve eaten it haven’t you! Haven’t you!” 

Bartholomew could do naught but shake his head. 

Yalé raised a hand to hit him, and Bartholomew screeched, ducking. Yalé hit the wall instead, and Bartholomew ducked between his legs, and ran to the safety of his room, and locked the door.

...

As time went on, the beatings got worse and more frequent. It was nearly always Theo who got hurt though. Bartholomew felt guilty, but he knew that Theo was protecting him. If Yalé was angry about something, Theo always pretended that it was his fault to make sure Yalé would never turn on Bartholomew. 

Bartholomew hated it. He hated that he couldn’t protect his brother, he hated that he was too scared to stand up to Yalé. He hated that he had to hide under his bed whenever Yalé came home. And he hated the tears that would run down his face. Theo was the one who got hurt, not him. He had no right to cry. 

Yalé came early yet again. Bartholomew trembled, standing before him, fumbling for an excuse to leave before Yalé lost his temper. 

As usual, Yalé raised a hand to hit him. Bartholomew flinched and tried to move out of the way. 

He crashed into the wall. That was on the other side of the room. Bartholomew looked around confused… He had just run away from Yalé in under a millisecond. 

This must be… his semblance! 

Yalé growled, and Bartholomew realised that he had no time to revel in his newfound power. He had to run. 

Before he knew it, he was in his bedroom. He looked around, disorientated. 

Yalé started to yell, and Bartholomew darted under his bed. He was safe now. Yalé daren’t break down the door for fear of what their Da would say. 

Bartholomew couldn’t help but grin as he turned towards the wall. He had discovered his semblance! And at such a young age too! Most didn’t until they were older teenagers or adults. He couldn’t wait to tell Theo. Theo... hopefully, Yalé wouldn’t catch him. Yalé would he angry now, and that didn’t bode well for Theo. 

Bartholomew felt guilty. Theo was probably going to get hurt because of him. But… there was nothing he could do about it now. 

...

Yalé’s beatings went on for about six months, until one day… their Da came home early. 

“What is going on?” Da yelled at the top of his lungs. 

Yalé may have mumbled something, but it was impossible to tell from Barty’s bedroom. 

Theo came running in a few seconds later and scrambled under Barty’s bed with him. 

“Cover your ears,” Theo instructed. Barty did so. 

Even with his ears covered, Batholomew could hear the thumps and yells coming from outside. 

He uncovered his ears for a second to say: “What if Da gets hurt?” 

Theo merely shook his head. 

There was a scream of “How dare you lay a hand on my kids!” and Bartholomew quickly recovered his ears like he had been told. 

The fight seemed to go on forever. 

Eventually, the noises stopped, so Bartholomew and Theo crept out from under the bed to go and see what was going on. 

As soon as they opened the front door, Theo gasped and clapped his hands over Bartholomew’s eyes. 

“What’s going on?” Bartholomew asked. 

“You uncle Yalé… is dead,” came their Da’s voice through sobs. “He can’t hurt you anymore,”

...

In some ways, it was a relief, having Yalé gone. Bartholomew and Theo no longer felt like they were walking on eggshells around the house. 

On the other hand… Bartholomew felt that he could no longer look his father in the eye. Yalé was cruel, yes, but killing was wrong. And Bartholomew was scared. What if he did something wrong and his father decided to kill him!? 

That was a stupid thought of course. Their Da loved them. He went out of his way to make sure that they knew that. But it could never erase what he’d done. 

What made it worse was that Theo seemed to be getting closer to his father. Their father came home early from work and spent time with Theo. They asked Bartholomew to join them, of course, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to look his father in the eyes. The eyes of a murderer.

And what if someone found out? What if their dad got sent to jail? How would He and Theo survive? They were both children! Neither of them could get a job. 

…

They buried Yalé around the back of the house and put a small stone with an inscription on it to mark where he lay.

The funeral was incredibly awkward. Theo seemed to be the least affected, smiling, and gleefully kicking at the headstone. 

Their Da was quiet, obviously upset but trying not to let it show. 

And Bartholomew… Bartholomew was still in shock. Yalé was dead. Gone. 

On one hand, of course, he was relieved. Yalé was cruel and frightening, and it was nice to know that he was no longer there. But… he was dead. It was such a weird thought that Bartholomew was trying to get his head around. This wasn’t like when Ma died, he wasn’t upset exactly, just confused. 

Had Yalé really been all bad? He had helped them build their house after all. Thanks to him it was made out of bricks and was a lot more sturdy. 

And then there was the fact that Da killed Yalé. Bartholomew was so confused. His Da, his sweet loving Da, was a murderer. And Yalé had been his brother. What sort of person murdered their own brother? Of course, Yalé had been beating Theo for the better part of six months… But if their Da could turn on his own brother, what if he turned on them? Bartholomew started to shake. What if their Da started beating them like Yalé did? He was obviously capable of violence. What if Bartholomew made a mistake and his Da tried to kill him? 

“Are you alright?” Da asked, noticed Bartholomew’s trepidation. 

Bartholomew couldn’t even look up at him. What sort of son was scared of their father? Especially a father as loving as their Da? Their Da was nothing but kind to him and Theo. How could he doubt him so?


	3. Friends

Primary school wasn’t really a thing in the slums that they lived in, so up until age eleven, Bartholomew mostly learned from books. 

There was, however, a secondary school that had been set up by a charity. 

It was Bartholomew’s first day, and he was nervously fidgeting as he walked next to Theo. 

“I can’t wait for you to meet all of my friends!” Theo exclaimed, “they’re gonna love you! And if they don’t, I’ll punch ‘em!” Theo punched the air to indicate what he meant. That was another thing. As he got older Theo was getting more… violent. He got into fights at school and threw punches at anyone who harassed him on the street. It had gotten to the point where he now had his own gang. 

Barty nodded silently. 

“Aw- cheer up,” Theo stated, “people will prefer a chatterbox to a mute, trust me,” 

“But Da always said that I talk too much and I’m really nervous about school. What if I’m no good? I want to get good grades. It’s the only way I can even hope to one day become a huntsman. It’s not like I can get into an academy. What if I get really bad grades? What if I’m the school dunce? I might never be able to be a huntsman!” 

Theo laughed. “Good to know you’re still in there. Oh, look! There they are! Oy, Cyan! We’re over here!” 

A boy with bright blue hair wandered over. A girl with black hair, black clothes, black makeup, and a choker, followed him. A sandy-haired boy, with small furry ears just sticking out the top of his head, wandered over too. 

“This is Arrabelle,” Theo introduced, “and Zam. Taupe is late but he’s easy to recognise, tall blond and lanky. You won’t miss him,” 

“So you’re lil’ Oobleck, huh?” Zam asked, taking a breath of his cigarette. 

Barty nodded. 

“Want one?” Zam offered Barty his packet of cigarettes. 

Barty shook his head vehemently. He’d read about what those did to your lungs, and it’s not exactly as if they had the best access to health care around here.

Zam shrugged. “More for me. Anyway, welcome to the gang,” 

... 

“Look, it’s real simple,” Theo told Bartholomew, “You’re gonna be in the quietest spot. If you see anyone coming past, you yell at them. I’ll come running. The knives are just to protect you, in case you get attacked,” 

Bartholomew swallowed. “Right.” 

Theo smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Come on, it’s for a good cause. If we can stop them from ransacking Mrs. Ardevoire’s house again, she’ll be a lot safer,” 

“And she’s paying us,” Bartholomew muttered. 

“Oh come on, we gotta eat,” Theo protested, “I didn’t even ask for the money. She offered it,” 

Bartholomew grunted. “Just go do your job,” 

It was quiet. Bartholomew sat in his spot on the wall all evening, waiting. He heard noises coming from inside the house at one point- but he didn’t move from his post. He had a job to do. 

It must have been two hours later when some people finally ran past. It was two children, aged about five and six, throwing stones at a dog. 

“Hey! Stop it!” Bartholomew yelled, jumping down from his perch. The kids screamed and ran off. Bartholomew was still holding his knives. Oh, oops, He hadn’t meant to scare the kids that badly. 

Bartholomew turned his attention to the dog, putting his knives back on his belt. It was a small dog, barely older than a puppy. Its coat might once have been golden, but now that it was so caked with mud it was hard to tell. It was also limping, and there seemed to be blood above his ear…

“Hey little fella,” Bartholomew said, crouching down, “It’s okay- I won’t hurt you,” 

The dog whined pitifully. Bartholomew held out a hand. 

After a few moments, the dog approached him and sniffed at his hand. Then, The dog rubbed up against his hand and snuggled up close to him. 

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” Bartholomew muttered, “Those horrid boys were just being cruel,” 

There were some steps behind Bartholomew. The dog whined again. 

Bartholomew turned. It was just Cyan. 

“We’re done- Mrs. Ardevoire is safe-“ Cyan began, “Om my gosh, is that a dog? He’s so cute!” 

“I know!” Bartholomew exclaimed, still petting him, “Some boys were bullying him and he’s been hurt. We need to clean the wound so that it doesn’t get infected,”

“If we can get him comfortable enough to sleep then his aura should do the rest,” Cuan mumbled, crouching next to Bartholomew, “And he really needs a bath,” 

“I would love to take him back to my house but Da doesn’t like dogs,” Bartholomew said sadly.

“Then we’ll take him back to mine- we’ve got a bath we can use. And I might be able to find a nice handkerchief from my mum’s draw that we can use instead of a collar. Can you carry him?” 

Bartholomew nodded and picked up the wet mutt up in his arms. He was getting mud everywhere but he didn’t care. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Bartholomew told the dog, “We’re gonna go and get you cleaned up,” 

… 

“There’s no way this dog hasn’t been trained,” Cyan said, spraying him down with the showerhead. 

Indeed, the dog was sitting perfectly still whilst they washed him, not complaining a bit. 

“You’re just a good boy, aren’t you?” Bartholomew cooed, gently rubbing the mud off of the dog's face. 

It was quickly becoming apparent that the dog was, in fact, a young golden was a retriever. He had a beautiful coat if a bit thin, and the most adorable face. 

“We should give him a name,” Bartholomew announced, “Especially if we’re going to keep him,” 

“Of course we’re going to keep him,” Cyan exclaimed, “I’ve always wanted a dog and he’s the most adorable one I’ve ever seen!” 

Bartholomew paused and looked at the dog’s happy face. “Sun?” he suggested, “Goldy? Loot? Treasure?” 

“Treasure!” Cyan exclaimed, “I love that name!” he turned the shower off. The dog was mostly clean now and was just soaking wet instead of being muddy. Cyan climbed out of the bath and looked by the dog. “I hereby dub you Treasure!” 

Treasure barked happily. 

… 

From then on, Treasure became one of the gang. He always came to school with Cyan and basically became everyone’s dog. They all took turns taking him on walks and teaching him new tricks. Within a month, Treasure could fetch, rollover, play dead, and look out for other people. 

The latter trick Bartholomew was very pleased with. He had been the one to teach Treasure “lookout”, having read several books on dog training. They no longer needed to worry about people sneaking up on them when they were playing games or just hanging out. 

...

“Yo! Newbie!” someone yelled at Bartholomew, lightly shoving his shoulder. 

Bartholomew looked up at them coldly. “Yes?” 

“Yes?” mimicked the bully. 

Some more bullies joined him, surrounding Bartholomew. 

“See you need to learn how things work around here,” the leader said, leering other Bartholomew, “You ain’t suppose to go around knowing the answers to questions see? You make us look stupid. Now, you are gonna do our homework to make up for it, ya get me?” 

“Never” Bartholomew spat. 

The bully slapped him across the face. Bartholomew internally groaned as he felt blood drip down his nose. Great. A nosebleed. That’s what he got for not having his aura up. Bartholomew tried to retaliate, but the others had already grabbed him. 

“Let’s teach him a lesson boys”, the leader cracked his knuckles. 

“Let me go,” Bartholomew said quietly, trying to sound menacing. 

Just then there was barking. It was Treasure! 

The bullies took one look at the dog, pushed Bartholomew backwards into a bush, and fled. 

“What the hell happened? Are you okay?” Zam ran around the corner, following Treasure who was now yapping at Bartholomew’s feet. Zam held out a hand and helped Bartholomew up. 

Bartholomew groaned and brushed himself off. “Idiots,” 

“Come on, Arabelle’s house is nearby. Let’s go and get you cleaned up” 

… 

“Oh my goodness! Your face!” Arabelle screeched when she saw Bartholomew. 

“It’s just a nosebleed,” Bartholomew muttered. 

She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside. They went to her bedroom and gave him a bag of wet wipes. 

She then turned to Zam. “How could you let this happen?” she demanded. 

“I didn’t know he got beat up until Treasure found him lying on the floor” 

“I wasn’t beat up-“ Bartholomew put in. 

“You were lying on the floor?” Arabelle asked softly. 

“I was tired,” Bartholomew replied sarcastically, wet wipe still over his nose as he tilted his head forwards. His eyes drifted around Arabelle’s room. It was a nice room. The walls, although saggy, were covered in interesting drapes. Opposite the bed, which they were sitting on, stood a chest of drawers. It has obviously been roughly fixed up with sellotape, but it did the job. It was what was on top of the draws that really caught Bartholomew’s attention though. There were lots of different bottles, and what looked like pens. 

“That’s my makeup stand,” Arabelle said, laughing, “You can try some on after you’ve cleaned up if you like.” 

Ten minutes later, Bartholomew was wearing eyeliner and some dark lipstick. He looked… good. It was different, certainly, but Bartholomew liked it. 

Arabelle passed him the eyeliner and lipstick. “Keep it,” she said, “I can always pick up some more,” 

Uncertainty swelled up inside Bartholomew. This makeup was probably stolen, he knew. And as a general rule, he only stole if it was absolutely necessary to survive. But… he wasn’t the one who stole this. And it wasn’t like not taking it would un-steal it. He caved in, an took the bottles from Arabelle, with a simple “thanks,”. 

“Now,” Arabelle said, putting her hands on her hips, “you” she pointed at Zam,” are going to teach Barty how to fight,” 

“I know how to fight!” Bartholomew protested, “I only got caught because it was five against one!” 

“Five idiots,” Arabelle replied, “They are clueless. Couldn’t fight to save their lives. If that had been Theo, Zam, or even me, they would have been the ones getting beat up. So you need to learn how to fight. And Zam is going to teach you.” 

Zam shrugged. “Fine. I finish my shift in the grocery store at four most days. I’ll swing by and pick you up after that.” 

“Umm, well, okay, if it’s no trouble,” Bartholomew mumbled. 

Zam clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll have you in fighting shape in no time,” 

… 

And so, for the next few weeks, Zam and Bartholomew met up after school to practice. Theo was a little worried about him getting hurt, and their Da wasn’t super happy about, but honestly, Bartholomew enjoyed it. He couldn’t remember the last time he got to hang out regularly with a friend. 

“Okay, now if I grab you from behind you’ve gotta bring your elbow up to my face, right?” Zam explained. 

“And if you’re holding down my arms?” Bartholomew asked. 

“Then you bend over, grab my leg, and yank upwards.” 

“I’m not strong enough to do that!” Bartholomew exclaimed, “You’re way bigger than me!” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Zam smirked. Bartholomew punched him on the arm. “Now you’re getting it!” Zam exclaimed, “Now this is where knives come in. Merely holding them should make people less likely to attack you. But in a street fight, they can give you an edge,” 

...

“Hi, Barty!” Taupe called out. 

It was early morning, not long before school started. Bartholomew was hurriedly finishing a piece of homework, sitting by the school wall. He looked up in surprise. He and Taupe didn’t talk much. He smiled nonetheless. 

“Can sit here?” Taupe asked, plonking himself down before Bartholomew could answer. “I’ve been looking for someone to share the news with! I’ve got a job for us!” 

“Us?” Bartholomew asked curiously. 

“Yes! Us! The gang! You know Tyler from over the bridge?” 

Bartholomew shook his head “I rarely go around there,” 

Taupe snorted. “Don’t get out much, do you. Theo shelters you too much,” 

Bartholomew blushed and looked at his lap. “None of your business,” he muttered. 

“Anyway,” Taupe continued, “Tyler has offered us a job. 700 lien for taking a package across town!” 

Bartholomew raised his eyebrows. “That seems a lot. Why can’t he do it himself?” 

Taupe shrugged. “He’s been caught smuggling drugs too many times. He can’t get on a bus without being searched,”

“The package contains drugs?!” Bartholomew whispered, horrified. 

Taupe shrugged. “What did you think it was going to have in it; dandelions?”

“I’m not sure,” Bartholomew mumbled, “That isn’t legal. Not to mention the health effects it will have on the people who end up taking them,” 

“Oh lighten up,” Taupe said, “Our life expectancy is terrible around here anywhere. We’ll be lucky to make it to twenty-five. We might as well live it up whilst we can,”

“So you want to risk going to prison for the short few years you have left?” Bartholomew asked. “Count me out.” 

“Coward!” Taupe called out playfully, as Bartholomew got up and walked away. 

...

“I try and keep the gang out of illegal stuff where I can,” Theo explained, when Bartholomew mentioned what Taupe had told him earlier, “but sometimes- when money’s tight- it’s the only way to survive,” 

“It’s still wrong,” Bartholomew muttered, unconvinced, “What if someone that we give the drugs overdoses and dies? What if they become addicted? What if they are already addicted and we’re helping their spiralling mental health? It isn’t right…” 

“Not everyone who smokes pot is an addict, Barty,” Theo broke in, “Heck, even I do sometimes. It’s fun,” 

“You… do pot?” Bartholomew asked quietly.

Theo nodded. “Not a lot- but as I said- it’s fun.” 

“Does Da know?” 

Theo shrugged. “I don’t think so. Don’t tell him will you?” 

Bartholomew swallowed. “I’m not a snitch,” 

… 

The next day, Zam never turned up after school. 

At first, Bartholomew thought he was late, or maybe he had forgotten. But Zam wasn’t even picking up his scroll… Bartholomew got worried. 

After two hours of waiting, he decided to drag Theo to Zam’s house with him to see what was up. 

The first thing they noticed was that the grocery was closed. Zam lived with his adoptive father, Gregory, and they ran a grocery store together. It was open every day of the week, from 6 till 10. Gregory worked so hard to provide for Zam, and neither Bartholomew nor Theo had ever seen the grocery shut before. 

They knocked. 

There was no answer. 

They knocked again. 

Still no answer. Bartholomew peered through the window, whilst Theo took a few steps back to holler at the window. 

“Zam it’s us!” Theo called out, “What’s going on?” 

Zam appeared at an upstairs window and threw it open. 

Bartholomew was immediately struck with how worried Zam looked. Usually, Zam had a sort of permanent cheeky grin, that made him look like some sort of leprechaun, but now… he looked positively terrified. 

“You guys had better come in!” Zam called out, “I’ll be down in a second,” 

A few moments later, Zam appeared at the front door. 

Up close, he looked worse. Eyes red-rimmed, sweat trickling down his brow… 

“It’s Gregory,” Zam whispered, “I don’t know what to do,” 

He lead them upstairs, locking the front door behind them.

In the tiny room above the shop, Gregory lay on the bed. At least… it looked like Gregory, with his dark hair and ram horns… but his skin; it was all red and swollen. 

“He’s had an allergic reaction,” Zam explained, “Some burglars came to the shop… and tried to knock him out with some sort of spray. Whatever it was, it must have had traces of peanuts in. I begged the school nurse to come and have a look at him but there was nothing she could do,” 

“He needs to go to the emergency room,” Theo stated, “Now. It’s his only hope,” 

“But- we can’t afford it,” Zam said shrilly, “The burglars took all our savings!” 

“He’s not a citizen?” Bartholomew asked softly. 

Zam shook his head. “His parents were both slaves from the Schnee Dust company who escaped.” 

Theo sighed. “Then we’ll have to get the money. What is it for the emergency room? A thousand lien?” 

Bartholomew nodded. 

Zam looked miserable. It didn’t suit him. Bartholomew's heart broke for his friend. He knew what it was like to lose a parent. And to lose a parent when they could be treated!? It wasn’t fair. He couldn’t allow this to happen. But they needed a thousand lien, and fast. 

“There’s always… Tyler’s job…” Bartholomew ventured. 

“I thought that you were adamantly against that?” Theo asked.

“Tyler’s got a job for us?” Zam asked. 

“I am,” Bartholomew said, replying to Theo’s question, “but short of robbing a bank, I don’t know how we’d get enough lien to save Gregory’s life in time.” 

“I’ll go talk to Tyler- explain the situation. Hopefully, he’ll give us a pay raise,” Theo decided. 

“What’s the job?” Zam asked. 

“It’s a drug run,” Bartholomew said grimly. 

… 

“This is so awesome!” Taupe whispered to Bartholomew, as they stood on the train platform, luggage in hand. “I feel like a real criminal!” 

“Shut up,” Bartholomew whispered, “We are doing this for Zam and Gregory. It's not awesome, it’s terrifying,” 

Sweat trickled down the back of Bartholomew’s neck. He tried to think of other things. Zam and Theo taking Gregory to the emergency room right now. Arabelle and Cyan doing a second drug run to make up the rest of the money they needed. His Da, at work, completely clueless to the heist that was going on. 

And in any case, they had passed the hardest part now. Their luggage had been checked, the bird food ploy had worked, and now all they had to do was sit on a train for an hour. 

But still… what if something went wrong? What if their luggage fell off the rack, flew open, and revealed it’s contents to everyone? What if the ticket inspector had a sniffer dog? What if the people who had checked their luggage had actually realised that the bird feed was drugs and had called the police? 

Taupe squeezed his arm. “Calm down mate. It’s gonna be fine. I can practically hear the cogs whirring in that big brain of yours. Chill,”

Bartholomew snorted but tried to “chill” nonetheless. What would be a normal conversation for teens their age? He didn’t even know Taupe that well. Well, maybe this could be a chance to change that. 

“So what’s your favourite subject as school?” Bartholomew asked awkwardly. 

“Uh.. recess?” Taupe offered, “school is shit,” 

“Right,” Bartholomew mumbled. Personally, he quite liked school. The learning anyway. The bullies, the idiots, and the teachers, not so much. 

They stood there in awkward silence for a few more minutes. 

“So who do you think is the hottest in our year?” Taupe asked, not unkindly. 

“Errr. Hot?” Bartholomew stuttered. 

“Good looking. Bangable. And don't name any teachers because that’s weird and honestly kind of creepy,”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” Bartholomew managed. 

“Then what’s your type?” Taupe asked. 

Bartholomew shrugged. Again, not something he’d ever given much thought to. “Strong?” he guessed, “but not super buff. And blond hair is nice… and hazel eyes,” 

“That sounds like Zam; if he were a girl, I bet you’d totally be crushing on him!” 

“Right,” Bartholomew mumbled, looking at the floor. 

“So I guess you wanna know my type now?” Taupe continued, “I like the dark and mysterious type… Not Arabelle though. Everyone knows that she’s Cyan’s girl…” 

And so it went on throughout a lot of the journey. Bartholomew appreciated Taupe trying to make friends, but honestly, they had nothing in common. Taupe was athletic, boisterous, outgoing and girl crazy. Bartholomew was not. They even had different political views, which was ironic since it was unlikely that either of them would ever be able to vote. 

Still, Bartholomew was glad to have him there when the ticket inspector came around. Bartholomew froze to the spot, suddenly remembering what they were doing; the laws that they were breaking. Taupe, however, merely smiled at the man, and produced their tickets from his wallet. 

“Have you ever done… this… before?” Bartholomew murmured. 

Taupe shook his head. “This is a first for both of us. It’s just like in the movies though!” 

Bartholomew had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Taupe was also movie crazy. So movie crazy, that he thought movies were better than books! As if! 

…

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Zam exclaimed the next time he saw Bartholomew. He even pulled him into a hug. “Gregory is all good. The hospital even gave him an EpiPen in case it happened again. You saved his life,” 

“Well me and the rest of the gang” Bartholomew mumbled onto Zam’s shoulder, “it was a team effort,”

Zam let go of him, and Bartholomew swore that he saw tears in his eyes. “But you were the one most against the idea” Zam explained, “But I'm so grateful that you chose to save Gregory’s life. It means the world to me. I can’t explain.” 

“It’s okay.” Bartholomew reassured him, “I know what it’s like to see a parent die. I wasn’t about to let that happen to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to include some OCs at this point because... Who else was Barty gonna be friends with?


	4. Sickness

Another disadvantage of living in such a poor area was that sickness spread quickly. Access to healthcare was limited and expensive. Oh sure, Vale had free healthcare for its citizens, but illegal refugees weren’t technically citizens. Bartholomew’s Da had tried to get them citizenship multiple times, but no one ever believed they had survived the fall of Mountain Glenn. As far as the government was concerned, everyone in Mountain Glenn had died. 

The winter when Bartholomew was thirteen, a plague spread. School was cancelled, and people hardly dared step outdoors less they contract the sickness. 

It was miserable. Bartholomew spent his days in his room, keeping up with his schoolwork. Their Da wouldn’t let either Theo nor Bartholomew leave the house for risk they would get sick. It was extremely inconvenient for Theo, who had just dropped out of school and was looking for a job. 

Their Christmas was the worst so far; they had no money for presents or special food. The only real difference to a normal day was that their Da wasn’t at work. Usually, their Da worked seven days a week as a rubbish truck driver just to gain them enough money. 

Honestly, it wasn’t that surprising when their Da got sick. At first, he tried to hide it from his boys, but his hacking coughs and high fever soon caught up with him. 

He didn’t want to let his boys see him, for fear that they would get sick too. 

“Da?” Theo would knock on the door, “Barty’s made some soup? Would you like some?” 

“Just leave it outside my door and I’ll get it in a minute,” their Da would reply, voice rough and gravelly. 

“At least let me take your temperature?” Theo would plead. 

There was never any more response. Bartholomew tried as well, but their Da would immediately tell him to get away from the door. Since he was younger, his immune system might not be as good. 

“Da? Can I get you anything?” Bartholomew would ask. 

“Please go away,” their father would reply, “before you get sick too,” 

Eventually, though, their father stopped replying. 

“What if he’s dead?” Bartholomew whispered, pacing around the kitchen, “what if he choked on something and is dying this instant? What if-“ 

“He could just be sleeping,” Theo interrupted. 

Bartholomew folded his arms and looked at him, unconvinced. Despite Theo trying to reassure him, Theo himself looked sick with worry. 

“Okay, I’ll check on him” Theo conceded. 

“How? The door’s locked? And you don’t want to get into trouble…” 

“Don’t tell me you’re still scared of Da,” Theo snorted. 

Bartholomew looked at his feet. “I’m not scared.” 

“Good. You have no reason to be. No come and help me break the door down.” Theo stood up and walked off to their Da’s door. 

The room inside was a grim sight to behold. 

The curtains were drawn, it was unpleasantly warm and humid, and it stank. It stank of sweat, human and most of all, sick. It was easy to see why. There was a bucket of sick next to the bed. 

Theo ignored it and went straight to his father’s side, whilst Bartholomew gagged at the stench. 

“He’s alive,” Theo breathed. 

“Thank goodness,” Bartholomew mumbled, “now let's get out of here before he wakes up,”

Theo shook his head. “I need to get the doctor,” 

“But we can’t afford the doctor- a house visit- down here- you’re looking at around ten thousand lien!” Bartholomew exclaimed. 

Theo shrugged. “So be it. Better to be indebted than orphaned. I won’t lose another parent,” 

...

“It’s gonna be alright,” Barty whispered, “Theo’s gone to get the Doctor. You’re gonna be fine,” 

“No, doctor,” his father rasped, “expensive,” 

“Don’t worry about that,” Barty reassured him, “We’ll get our hands on the money… I can do a deal with Tyler to move some drugs across town-“ 

“No!” his father exclaimed.

“Da!” Barty exclaimed, tears in his eyes, “This is a life or death situation! You need a doctor. No question. No shut up, and save you strength!” 

His father grunted. Then he coughed. And then… he went still. 

“No!” Barty yelled, “Just a few more minutes! Please!” 

There was no reply. 

Barty burst into tears and started to sob onto his dad’s chest. 

A door slammed in the building, and Theo rushed in. 

“Da!” Theo yelled, “I’ve got the doctor, dad!” He stopped short when he saw Barty crying. 

Theo then rushed forward, and pushed Barty out of the way, roughly shaking their dad. “No! Wakeup! I brought the doctor!” Theo cried. “Please, please wake up!” 

… 

“I’m going to vaccinate each of you,” the Doctor told Bartholomew and Theo, “since I’m down here anyway. No extra charge. I’m sorry about your father,” 

Theo nodded numbly, whilst Bartholomew sniffed, unable to stop the tears flowing down his face. 

…

“We should bury him,” Theo mumbled eventually. 

Bartholomew nodded, not moving from his spot on the sofa. “In the back? Next to Yalé?” 

“Never!” Theo exclaimed, “We can’t bury Da next that- that monster! We’ll bury him at a proper burial site. Get a memorial stone made,” 

“I’m guessing this means we’ll be running drugs across Vale for money,” Bartholomew said sadly. “I hate it.” 

“I know you do,” Theo sighed, “but unless you have a better idea… I will try and get a job now that we’ve been vaccinated. But we owe the doctor, and will need to pay for a funeral, not to mention all our normal living costs,” 

… 

It was a nice cemetery. Upon a hill, with a view of Vale. 

They hadn’t been able to afford a proper funeral, in the end, it was going to be difficult to make ends meet as it was. So it was just the two of them. Bartholomew and Theo. They trekked silently through the cemetery, shovels, headstone and ashes in hand. 

Neither of them said anything as they dug the grave, and buried their father’s remains. 

“You should go,” Theo stated, once it was all done. 

Bartholomew was about to protest- surely he should say a few words?- but one look at his brother’s face and he knew he could not win this argument. 

He was barely out of the cemetery when the yelling started. 

“How could you leave us!?” Theo cried. 

Bartholomew stopped. It was heartbreaking to hear his brother like this. But he… he didn’t want to leave him in this state. 

“You said you would take care of us!” Theo continued, “you said you would protect us! And now… now you’re gone!” 

Bartholomew swallowed. He should leave. 

“And you left me- you left me with him! I can’t look after Barty! That’s not my job! He’s such a nuisance! How could you just leave me with all of your responsibilities?” 

Bartholomew’s heart dropped. He was… a nuisance? His legs seemed to remobilise, and before he knew it, he was running. He even activated his semblance. Where was he going? he didn’t know. He just had to get away. He had to… 

Because of his flight, Bartholomew never heard Theo’s next words. 

“That’s unfair… he’s not really a nuisance. I love him. But I want him to have the best life possible, and I don’t know if I’m capable of giving that to him,”

… 

Bartholomew went home. Where else could he go? Theo may think him a nuisance, but he couldn’t just leave. 

Around here, the streets were not safe. Bartholomew was perfectly aware that he wouldn’t last a week. 

Of course, there were his friends' houses… but he didn’t want to inconvenience them. He didn’t want to be a nuisance. 

He cooked dinner and left some out for Theo. 

Theo came home a few hours later, giggling, and smelling of weed. 

Bartholomew ignored him completely, turned a blind out to Theo throwing out his dinner in favour of drinking a beer, and went to bed. 

Once he was alone in his room, Bartholomew burst into tears.


	5. Umber

All seven of the gang were leaning against a wall behind the school, passing around a cigarette. 

“So I heard Mr. Diggins is leaving,” Cyan said, “Can’t handle teaching in a charity school,” 

Arabelle snorted. “Can’t handle a few pranks, more like,” 

“In fairness, he is trying to teach, and it must be very frustrating for him to be distracted all the time,” Bartholomew pointed out. 

“True,” Zam muttered, “but just because one dude has behavioural problems, he goes and leaves all of us? How am I gonna pass my maths exam? I need a good grade to get a job at the local mechanics,”

Theo snorted. “So which punk was it that scared off the teacher?” 

“Umber,” Arabelle supplied, “He rigged the door to a bucket of flowers, and chalked faunus slurs all over the blackboard,” 

“That’s a bit more than a prank,” Barty pointed out, “It’s bullying,” 

“I’ll go talk to Umber,” Theo muttered, stubbing out the cigarette on the wall. “That’s not on,” 

“Is he okay?” Cyan asked awkwardly, as Theo stalked off. 

“I don’t know,” Barty shrugged, “I worry about him… ever since dad passed away. He hasn’t been the same. I try to make him smile- and he does sometimes- when I tell him about stuff- but... I guess it’s my turn to be the positive one, huh? He’s always been there for me, so I’ll always be there for him,” 

…

These days, the gang always went to a bar on Friday nights. The music was loud, and the alcohol poor, but there was a pool table. None of them ever really got to play anything, so they all loved the chance to play pool. 

On that night, Bartholomew, Zam, and Cyan were on one team, and Taupe, Arabelle and Theo on the other. 

“Score!” Cyan yelled, hitting the purple spot ball into a hole. He high fived Bartholomew and Zam. “Pass me the ball, Theo?” 

There was no response. 

“Where’s Theo gone?” 

Arabelle and Taupe looked about. 

“Not again,” Arabelle sighed, “Come on, let’s have a five-minute break and go look for him,” 

“He always does this,” Taupe grumbled. 

They all split up to look for Theo. It wasn’t like Theo couldn’t look after himself, but they had to make sure he hadn’t gotten himself into another fight. 

Bartholomew found him at one of the bars, talking with Umber. 

Bartholomew wrinkled his nose in disgust. What was that racist idiot doing with his brother? 

He sidled nearer. It quickly became apparent that they weren’t having a friendly conversation. 

Theo saw Bartholomew and waved him over. “Take Anya back to the others will you, and make sure she gets home safe?” 

He pushed a red-headed girl that Bartholomew hadn’t noticed earlier towards him. 

Bartholomew took Anya’s hand. It didn’t take a genius to work out what was going on. 

“Oh thank you!” Anya whispered once they had walked away, “I thought that freak was going to kill me!” 

“It’s no problem- we can take you home to make sure no one else gives you any trouble,” Bartholomew replied. 

Behind them, there were shouts, and Bartholomew didn’t even have to turn to know that Theo and Umber had come to blows. He found that he didn’t really care. Theo was so much stronger, he would definitely win, and it wasn’t like Umber didn’t deserve to be decked… Violence is wrong. He told himself. Violence is wrong. Looking at Anaya’s terrified face, it was hard to believe it though… 

...

Bartholomew honestly hadn’t expected to be cornered in an alley. 

“Oobleck!” Umber yelled, grabbing the poor Bartholomew by his shirt and slamming him against a wall. “You tell your brother- you tell your brother to mind his own damn business!”

Bartholomew gulped, and nodded his head, struggling to get away. Damn being the youngest. 

“Ever since I pulled that stupid prank on that maths teacher, your brother has had it out for me!” Umber continued, “Just yesterday, he stole my girlfriend from me!” 

“Anya wasn’t your girlfriend,” Barty all but whispered. 

Umber growled. “What did you say?” 

Barty whimpered and tried again to wriggle out of his grasp. He uselessly hit at Umber’s arm. 

Umber slammed him against the wall again. “Do you know how hard it is for me to get laid! She was my one chance!” 

Barty really should have kept his mouth shut. But he couldn’t help himself. “Hardly a surprise,” 

Umber suddenly seemed to have a bright idea. It was uncanny, seeing the smile on his pig-like face. “Well- since it’s your fault-“ Umber began, “I might as well take what I want from you!” 

Barty screeched. “How is it my fault!? Get off me you disgusting pervert!” 

… 

Bartholomew tried everything he could think of. Every trick that Zam had taught him, including trying to use his knives. Nothing worked. Umber was older, bigger, stronger, and more experienced. He took the knives almost as soon as Bartholomew reached for them. 

Umber dragged Bartholomew to an old abandoned house… and took what he wanted. 

Once he was done, he let a sobbing Bartholomew go home. 

Bartholomew practically ran to the bathroom to throw up, before proceeding to have a very hot shower. 

He didn’t talk to Theo all evening, and instead, he took his duvet and curled up under his bed, still crying. He couldn’t stop. 

… 

The next day, Bartholomew tried pot for the first time. It was stupid, he knew what it was doing to his body, but somehow… he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Zam raised his eyebrows, and Theo gave him a funny look, but no one said anything. Bartholomew wasn’t up to talking much anyway. And his red-rimmed eyes and hollow look at least told everyone to leave him alone. 

...

“You okay mate?” Zam asked. It was a Friday night, and they were back at the bar, sipping drinks. 

Despite being underage, Bartholomew had decided to try beer for the first time. It tasted revolting, and he barely had a sip of it. He burned his throat though, which he liked. 

He nodded at Zam. “As fine as ever,” he managed, forcing a smile. It had almost been a week now. He should just forget about it. Forget about Umber. Go back to normal. 

“It’s just… you’ve been acting off all week. You know, if you need anything, we’re here for you,” 

Bartholomew nodded. “I know.” 

… 

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Theo asked when they got home. 

Bartholomew was taken aback. Even Theo had noticed. 

“N-nothing,” he stammered. 

Theo led him to the couch and he sat down. “Look, I know things haven’t been the same since Da passed away, and we don’t get to spend as much time together as we used to, but I care about you okay? And if something happened to you, if someone bullied you or if you accidentally did something you regret, then I want to know.” 

Bartholomew folded his arms. “I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re not,” Theo stated, “I know you, Barty, you don’t smoke weed or drink. So what’s with the sudden experimentation?” 

“Maybe I just felt like it,” Bartholomew said monotonously. 

Theo looked at him incredulously. “You want me to buy that?” 

“Why do you care?” Bartholomew suddenly yelled, “The only reason you look after me is because that’s what you think Da would have wanted! I know you think I’m a nuisance, no matter how hard I try, and that you will never love me that way I love you!” 

Theo stood up. “Why the hell would you think I don’t love you?” he yelled, “you’re my little brother! You mean the world to me! Of course, I care! Now tell me what the fuck is wrong!” 

Bartholomew fled. He didn’t know why. Tears were streaming down his face. Theo loved him. Theo loved him… and yet he was so useless. He couldn’t tell Theo what had happened. He couldn’t bear the anger, the shame... and if Theo truly loved him, he daren’t lose that again. 

…

Two days later, and Bartholomew saw Umber again. Umber yelled out something about “coming back for more?” and before he knew it, Bartholomew was running. Thud- thud- thud- thud, went the footsteps behind him. Even though the pouring rain, Bartholomew could hear them as clearly as his own ragged breaths and beating heart. 

Dammit, Umber was catching up! He couldn’t let him catch him! Not again! Not after what had happened- Bartholomew shook his head. He was not thinking about that. He was concentrating on getting away. 

He put on a burst of speed, before turning a corner. 

Damn! It was a dead-end! He was going to have to fight. Bartholomew wouldn’t let Umber take him. Not this time. Umber may be taller, older and stronger but he wasn’t nearly as fast as Bartholomew. So at least he had that going for him. 

Umber also rounded the corner. Bartholomew dived to the left and hit an invisible wall. Damm! He hated Umber’s semblance! 

“I’m gonna kill you brat, once I’m done with you!” Umber bellowed. 

Bartholomew felt himself start to shake. It must be the cold, he reasoned. Stupid weather. 

Umber lunged at him, and Bartholomew dodged, with only an inch to spare. Could he call Theo? No, he would never have time to get his phone out and dial a number, even if Theo did pick up. 

Umber lunged again, and this time he punched Bartholomew squarely in the stomach. Bartholomew felt his aura fall as he fell against a wall. 

Umber took a giant hunting knife out of its sheath on his back. 

Okay, they were moving onto weapons now. Bartholomew shakily grabbed his two small knives from his belt. It was going to be okay, he told himself. He could win this. 

As Umber made a grab for Bartholomew, who rolled over, pushed himself up, and came up to the side of Umber. He wasted no time in kicking Umber with all his might. 

Umber barely stumbled, although his aura did go down. Okay. They were even. Bartholomew was going to win. He had to win. He couldn’t let Umber catch him again. He couldn’t! He had to get away. There was no other acceptable outcome. 

Later, Theo will talk with Umber’s gang leader, Bartholomew told himself. Umber wasn’t even supposed to be here, on their turf. With any luck, Umber would get into trouble and Bartholomew would never have to lay eyes on him again. 

Yes, that was a good plan. Escape, and then talk to Theo. The others would back him up. 

He dodged another blow from Umber. It was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay. It had to be! 

There - an opening. Bartholomew darted forward, wishing he still had enough aura to use his semblance. At least Umber was also out of aura - 

Bartholomew slammed to a halt, grabbing at his neck. Someone had got the back of his shirt collar and lifted him off the ground. 

Umber turned him around to face him. Dammit, dammit, dammit, DAMMIT! Not again! This couldn’t be happening again! 

Bartholomew felt tears well up in his eyes. Great. Just great. Now Umber was going to have the satisfaction of seeing him cry. Again. Sometimes he really hated being sentimental. Though whether this was sentimentality or panic, Bartholomew couldn’t tell. 

Umber lifted him up higher, and Bartholomew felt his shirt slip. Great. He had had to choose today of all days to wear his brother's shirt, that was slightly too big for him. The neck hole slipped over his head, and suddenly Bartholomew couldn’t see. He flailed about desperately. He had to get away, he had to get away, he had to get away! 

He felt one of his knives catch on something, and he pulled at it desperately. He couldn’t lose his knives! They were his only form of defence! 

Suddenly, Umber dropped him, and Bartholomew fell to the ground. He quickly pulled his shirt back over his head. 

He screamed. 

Umber was lying in front of him, blood everywhere. He was completely still. 

Dropping his knives and covering his mouth with one hand, Bartholomew scrambled up. There was blood all over the front of him too. And on his knives. 

Bartholomew gently nudged Umber with his foot. There was no reaction. Shit. Umber looked dead. 

That’s when it hit Bartholomew. He had killed him. He had killed Umber. He clamped his hands over his mouth to stop himself screaming again, or throwing up. Yeah, he hated Umber more than the Grimm themselves, but he didn’t want to kill him. Bartholomew didn’t want to kill anyone. And he had. He had taken an actual human life. He was a murderer. 

Umber was dead. 

Bartholomew had actually killed him.

… 

Bartholomew hid in his room, curled up in his duvet. He didn’t do anything. He barely ate anything. He talked to no one. 

He just lay there, crying. 

Theo knocked on his door several times a day, to at least try and encourage him to eat. Bartholomew didn’t say a word. 

Zam came and talked through the door, and told him that they had gotten ridden the body and evidence by throwing it over the wall and that there was no need to worry. 

Bartholomew still did not reply. 

In fact, over the two weeks, the only words he uttered were “yes please” when Cyan offered to bring him his school work. 

He didn’t know why. Everything was just too much. His missed Da, or the Da from before he’d killed Yalé, he missed his Ma, even though his memory of her seemed to fade every day. He kept having nightmares of what Umber had done to him, and would wake up screaming. And the red… every time he closed his eyes he saw Umber’s red blood, everywhere. On his hands on his clothes… No matter how many showers he had, the red was always there in his mind’s eye. 

It was Sunday when he finally opened the window. He only knew it was Sunday because Cyan hadn’t brought any school work around. 

He didn’t really want to open his window, but after two weeks of practically living in there, his room was starting to smell. 

He lay on his bed, the sunlight filtering over him. He felt numb. Completely numb. He had cried all the tears he had to shed, and now he just felt empty.

He looked over at his breakfast that Theo had brought him a few hours ago. He hadn’t touched it. He wasn’t hungry. What was even the point of eating? He didn’t care. He didn’t care if he got hungry. He didn’t care if he starved. He didn’t care if he died. 

Suddenly, there was a scuffling noise outside his window. 

Bartholomew looked up… and his eyes met Arabelle's. Her face was looking in through his window, smiling softly. Without a word, she hoisted herself up, and tumbled through the window, landing on Bartholomew’s bed. 

Bartholomew turned away from her, without saying a word. Arabelle was stubborn. He already knew that there would be no point in telling her to go away. 

Surprisingly, Arabelle didn’t say anything. She just flopped back and lay on the bed, next to Bartholomew. 

It was quiet. It was nice. But… now Bartholomew was curious. “Why are you here?” he asked, voice rough and gravelly from disuse. 

“Solidarity,” Arabelle replied, “and to remind you that it wasn’t your fault,” 

“I killed him, how is that not my fault?” 

“It was an accident. I wasn’t referring to that anyway,” Arabelle said softly. 

“Then what were you referring to?” Bartholomew asked quietly. 

“Barty, I- I knew Umber,” Arabelle stayed, "I know what he was like. And you were acting strangely before he died,” he paused for a second, “and well, it happens to 1 in 3 girls, and 1 in 6 boys, it’s happened to me, and I don’t want to assume but I’m pretty sure I'm right and- oh Barty- did- did Umber rape you?” 

Barty didn’t move. He didn’t want to acknowledge it. To give it that word. He wanted to pretend that it never happened. But he was shaking, and he could already feel the tears that he didn’t think he had left forming.

He rolled over into Arabelle’s waiting embrace and sobbed. 

… 

Bartholomew didn’t return to school for six months. He did his best to keep up with his work, studying entirely from his room. 

When he did go back to school, it was mostly to make sure he didn’t fall any further behind. He still wanted to be a huntsman. If anything, he was even more driven than he was before. He wanted to leave this place. He wanted a new life. He wanted to atone for the mistakes he had made.


	6. Beacon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ozpin finally appears!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time skip! *jazz hands*

Bartholomew sighed in relief as he filled out the last question of the Beacon entrance exam. Thank goodness that wasn’t that hard. Now he just needed to pass the practical. 

Once he had been dismissed, he had to wait to collect his earrings, choker, and scroll. Apparently, the examiners weren’t big fans of jewelry. 

When he finally got out of the exam hall, there was only him and one other boy, a little younger than him with silver hair, left. 

“How did you find it?” the boy asked, fidgeting with his bag. 

Bartholomew shrugged. In his experience, it wasn’t always a good idea to let people know that you were intelligent from the get-go. 

“Do you uh… know the way to the bus stop?” the boy asked awkwardly. “My mum dropped me off but I have to make my own way home,” 

Bartholomew nodded. “Follow me,” 

They walked in silence for a few minutes. Bartholomew felt sorry for the chap. He obviously wanted to make friends. Not unlike himself a few years ago… 

“I’m Barty by the way”, Bartholomew offered in way in conversation. 

“I’m- you can call me Ozpin,” the boy replied after a moment’s pause. 

They walked in silence for a few more moments. 

“Do you like books?” Ozpin ventured. 

Ah! Some common ground! Bartholomew could work with that! “Oh yes, I love books! Do you have a favourite?” 

“You’re asking me to pick one?” Ozpin asked, aghast. 

Bartholomew laughed. He actually laughed. The noise felt so foreign in his throat. “Top ten then,” 

“Well, Six of Crows definitely makes the top ten-“ 

“Oh my gosh! I love that one too!” None of Bartholomew’s friends had even read Six of Crows. And yet here was a boy who had not only read it but also loved it as much as he did! “What did you think of the sequels?” 

“They’re good but I’m guessing I should try and only include one book per series in this list or half of it is going to be Tolkien and the other half, Harry Potter,” 

…

Airships weren’t intimidating. At the very least, they weren’t supposed to be.

Bartholomew still took a deep breath as he stepped onto it though. At age nineteen, most of his peers had probably been on airships lots of times; they were one of the main types of transportation around the city. But not him. For him, this was a first. 

Maybe he should turn back. It wasn’t too late to get off the ship. Theo wouldn’t mind. Well, he’d call him a coward, as big brothers did, but he wouldn’t really mind. But Bartholomew had worked so hard to get here… 

He nervously stood at the back as the ship took off, trying not to catch anyone’s eye. He stood out enough as it was, with a mohican hairstyle and numerous piercing. He had still tried to tone it down for today, only one earring, and he had taken out his nose piercing. He wasn’t even wearing that much makeup! 

The fact that he was taller than everyone else didn’t help much either. 

Still, at least no one was talking to him. Bartholomew didn’t know how he’d handle that. He’d been told not to swear… That in itself was a hard habit to break. And what if they asked about his weapon? 

Bartholomew quickly checked his gun. It was beyond tacky. Made from the very cheapest parts, it was all that he had been able to afford. Well… legally afford. But he didn’t want to mess up his chances by buying a weapon with stolen money. 

“Hello,” someone said. 

Bartholomew almost jumped. What was worse was that his hand had automatically gone to his side, where he still had his knife. Right. Not attacking possible future friends would probably be the better way to go about. 

“Hello,” Bartholomew managed, looking up. Oh, It was Ozpin, the boy from the entrance exam. 

“First time on an airship?” Ozpin asked. 

Bartholomew blushed and looked at the floor. “Perhaps,” 

“Don’t worry, when first went on an airship, I was terrified the entire time that it would fall, despite knowing how it works. Come on, we should be able to see Beacon from up here!” 

Bartholomew almost felt bad. This boy was being so kind to him. He didn’t deserve it. Ozpin should go and make some proper friends, people who weren’t bound to attract trouble. 

Just then, two other boys walked past them. 

“Careful,” one of them said to Bartholomew as he went past, “If you hang out with Mr-know-it-all here then you might end up like him and go grey early,” 

“My hair is silver,” Ozpin muttered quietly once they’d passed. He then went quiet for a moment, as if listening to something. 

“You want me to sort them out for you?” Bartholomew offered. 

Ozpin shook his head. “They are just idiots- they were in high school with me. I can ignore them,” 

Bartholomew looked around the airship at the different groups of people talking. “Were a lot of these people at highschool with you?” 

Ozpin nodded. 

What struck Bartholomew as of was that all of them were ignoring them. Did none of them like Ozpin? That was sad. That’s When Bartholomew made up his mind. He was going to be friends with Ozpin. He couldn’t leave him on his own. 

“How old are you?” Bartholomew asked curiously. Ozpin looked a lot younger than most of the people here. 

“I’m sixteen…” Ozpin answered quietly. 

Bartholomew clapped him on the shoulder. “Wow, and coming to Beacon already! That’s impressive!” 

Ozpin looked up at him. “You really think so,” 

Bartholomew found himself smiling. “Yes, I do.” 

….

The air whistled past his face as Bartholomew flew towards the ground. Okay, so this was fun. This was something he could do. 

He grabbed his weapon and shot the ground to level himself. Then he used his super speed, and span around a tree trunk. Easy. This was what he had trained to do. Bartholomew felt a small jolt of pride. This was why he had come to Beacon. 

Now all he had to do was find a partner. Maybe Ozpin would want to pair up? Not that he had much of a choice. Whoever he made eye contact with was going to be his partner. 

Suddenly, there was a crunch behind him. Bartholomew turned. 

It was a Beowolf. Those things were big. It had been a long time since he'd seen one up this close. Still, he knew what he had to do… theoretically. 

He blasted its face with his bazooka. It reeled back, howling in pain. Then Bartholomew sped forward, using his semblance to get in close, slash it with a knife, and dodge away from it again. 

The Beowolf collapsed into black smoke. Few, that wasn’t so hard. First Grimm down, lots more to go. 

He was about to walk away when he heard footsteps. 

“Duck!” a voice yelled. 

Bartholomew ducked. A small Beowulf flew over his head and dissolved into dust on a tree. 

Bartholomew turned. His eyes met with Ozpin’s. He immediately let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness he hadn’t been paired with an idiot. 

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?” Ozpin asked, “I didn’t think that anyone was going to be behind the Beowulf…” 

“I’m fine,” Bartholomew replied, actually smiling. This was nuts, he was actually at Beacon and had been paired with the kind boy from the entrance exam day! “Come on, let’s go find those relics,” 

…

“Team Burgundy!” the commentator announced, as Bartholomew, Ozpin and two girls, Glynda Goodwitch, and Thumbelina Peach stepped up onto the stage. 

Ozpin, of course, was the leader. He seemed to have some sort of special connection with the headmaster; as far as Bartholomew knew he was going to be taking some different classes from the rest of them and helping the headmaster in his study a lot. It didn’t matter. Bartholomew was proud of his friend. 

It was amazing really, standing on the stage, with their names up on the screen. He’d made. Bartholomew had made it. He was at Beacon, and he was going to become a huntsman. 

… 

Bartholomew always waited for Ozpin after class. It started off because Ozpin had mentioned that he often felt lonely, and Bartholomew internally vowed to change that. He wouldn’t let anyone go through what he did. In any case, walking from one class to another with Oz, even when they had different classes, just became a habit. Sometimes Glynda or Lina would join them, but mostly it was just the two of them. 

Today though, Ozpin was running late. Bartholomew had been standing outside his classroom for five minutes, and Ozpin still hadn’t appeared. It was the end of the day, so it’s not like being late mattered, but Bartholomew was starting to get worried. 

Cautiously, for fear of a teacher seeing him, Bartholomew opened the door to the classroom. Immediately his heart clenched. 

Ozpin was picking up his books, which were strewn all across the floor, and there was a team of idiots jeering at him. 

“Leave him alone,” Bartholomew half yelled, striding into the middle of the classroom before he even knew what he was doing. 

“Ooh- another first year come to defend his honour,” one of the idiots jeered.

Bartholomew balled his hands into fists. Without thinking he had gone into a fighting stance. 

“Barty, don’t fight-“ Ozpin began, having picked up the last of his books. 

“I won’t let them hurt you,” Bartholomew replied. 

“Whoa there- we’re just having a little fun- we’d never hurt your teammate!” one of the idiots put in. 

“Yeah, who do you think we are? We’re huntsman- we don’t go around punching up babies,” 

“Then leave,” Bartholomew stated. 

Grumbling, the idiots left. 

“Barty- why would you think they were going to hurt me?” Ozpin asked, after a few moments of awkward silence. 

"That's what bullies do," Bartholomew replied.

"Is that what people used to do to you?" Ozpin asked. 

Bartholomew didn't reply. But it was enough. Ozpin hugged him. 

…

“Aaaaaaaaaaaah!” Lina practically screamed, throwing her book across the room. 

Bartholome, who was sitting doing homework on his bed, looked up, “Having trouble?” 

Line nodded. “I just don’t get it- why do we need to memorise all these different Grimm types? Can’t I just kill them!” 

Bartholomew got off his bed and picked up the book, dusting it off. “Each one has different strengths and weaknesses. Come on; I’ll help you,” 

…

Bartholomew soon discovered that Beacon had a student kitchen, and he loved it. Back home, he had often been the one to cook meals, since he had the most free time, and over the years he had developed a love of baking. 

The student kitchen was so well equipped! There were electric whisks, a microwave, a blender, and plenty of other appliances that Bartholomew had never had access to before. 

It was a Saturday morning when Bartholomew first tried out the kitchen. 

He decided to start with brownies since they were easy and he knew the recipe off by heart. 

He was just mixing the flour and sugar when Glynda walked in. 

Although they were teammates. Bartholomew hadn’t talked much with Glynda yet. She spent most of her free time in the library and seemed to avoid them all as much as possible. 

“Lina wants us to have a team picnic at Lunch,” she stated. 

Bartholomew grinned, “Awesome! I’m making brownies so I can bring them! I might make some cookies as well, and sandwiches and salad of course,” 

“I think Lina was going to buy most of the picnic, you don’t have to make it,” 

Bartholomew almost felt surprised for a second. He was so used to having to prepare food for his family that it came as a shock for anything else to be suggested. But then he smiled. “Let me make it- homemade always tastes better than shop-bought,” 

Glynda blinked at him. “You want to make an entire picnic for all of is all by yourself?” 

Bartholomew nodded. “Yeah?” 

Glynda rolled up her sleeves. “I’ll help,” 

“Umm, okay. Can you finish adding all of the dry ingredients to these brownies whilst I melt the chocolate? You can look up a recipe on your scroll,” 

“I know how to make brownies,” Glynda said, “My school was one of those posh ones that decided to male us study home-economics,”

“You went to a posh school?” Bartholomew asked curiously, as he heated up a saucepan. 

Glynda nodded. “Quadling Academy. It’s an all-girls boarding school,” 

They continued to work in silence for a few seconds. Then Bartholomew turned around to see Glynda measuring out the cocoa powder… exactly. 

He laughed. “It doesn’t need to be that precise you know. You can just do it by eye,” 

Glynda shook her head. “Then they won’t be perfect.” 

“And they will be- all brownies are perfect,” Bartholomew replied, “You honestly can’t go wrong. Unless perhaps you burnt them,” 

“Sorry- I’ll do it your way,” Glynda mumbled. 

At the sound of her dejected voice, Bartholomew stopped and tapped her on the shoulder. “It’s okay, you can do it whichever way you like. The brownies will be perfect either way. I was just trying to help you save time,” 

Glynda looked surprised. “Umm, okay.” 

Bartholomew went back to cooking. “So- what’s your favourite class so far?” he asked, trying to make conversation. 

“Grimm studies,” Glynda replied. 

The conversation died into silence again. 

“I think mine is history… Bartholomew volunteered, “Is so interesting to hear about the great huntsmen and huntresses of the past, and how they overcame their struggles,” 

Glynda did not reply. 

“I’m not good at conversation,” she said eventually, “I’m not used to having friends. I’ll go-“ 

“Don’t leave!” Bartholomew interrupted, “It’s fine! I don’t mind. Friends don’t care about each other’s flaws. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to- but I appreciate the company,” 

“Oh,” was all Glynda replied. “Are we friends?” 

Bartholomew smiled at her. “If you want,” 

“I would like that,” 

...

One disadvantage of living at Beacon was that everyone shared a room with his team. 

Bartholomew was constantly paranoid that he was going to wake up his teammates with some nightmare or other, and completely embarrass himself. At least the days where he would wake up screaming were gone. Now it tended towards tears and occasionally hyperventilating when it got really bad. 

For the first few weeks, his luck held. Maybe it was the excitement of Beacon wearing him out, or simply the new environment making him feel safer. But in any case, his luck was bound to run out eventually. 

It seemed his luck had run out tonight. Bartholomew woke up in a panic. Yalé and Umber were giants trying to eat him… which was so stupid because it was so not real. That didn’t stop the tears from falling and the memories from surfacing. Without thinking, Bartholomew took his duvet, rolled off the bed, and hid underneath it. It was strangely comforting down here. He felt safe. The familiar smell of wood, although not quite the same as his own bedroom was comforting nonetheless. 

He closed his eyes, allowing more tears to fall now that he knew his teammates wouldn’t be able to see him. 

Suddenly, there was a creak from the next bed over. Two feet appeared, then two knees, and finally, Ozpin’s elbows, hands, and face. 

Bartholomew briefly considered trying to pretend to be asleep but realised that it would be stupid. Ozpin probably heard him moving around. 

Well, if he asked him to get back on the bed, Bartholomew wouldn’t listen. 

Instead, Ozpin softly whispered, “can I join you?” 

Taken aback, Bartholomew nodded. Ozpin lay flat and scrambled up next to Bartholomew. Bartholomew offered him some of the duvet, as Ozpin hugged him tightly. 

Bartholomew looked surprised at the small figure on his chest, hugging him like he was the most precious thing in the world. Bartholomew hugged him back and gently put a hand in his hair. 

“It’s okay. I understand,” Ozpin whispered. 

Bartholomew wanted to rebuke him. How could he understand? How could anyone understand? But… something in the way Ozpin said it. Bartholomew’s grip tightened around Ozpin. Somehow, he instinctively knew that Ozpin did understand. That Ozpin had been through just as much horror in his life if not more. 

“You’re not alone,” Ozpin continued softly, “you’re safe here,” 

Bartholomew closed his eyes and let some more tears fall. “I don’t- I don’t want to talk about it,” he whispered. 

“That’s alright- you don’t need to tell me anything. Just know that you’re safe here- it’s safe to cry,”


	7. Teammates

Bartholomew’s weapon lasted two months before it broke. That what he got for using the cheapest parts. 

He dejectedly held the two halves of his Bazooka as he left the classroom. The handle had completely snapped off, shattering the dust compartment. He could already tell it was unsalvageable. He also didn’t have enough money to afford new parts. Heck, he barely had any money at all. He didn’t have to pay to come to Beacon, being from a family well under the minimum wage, and food was free from the canteen… but things like clothes and transport? He had been saving for the last two years just to make sure he would have enough to get by. Replacing his weapon had not been apart of the budget. 

“What do you mean you’re not going to replace your weapon?” Glynda demanded when the whole team was back in their room. “How are you going to fight?” 

Bartholomew looked at the floor. “I’ll use my knives,” 

“But they’re tiny!” Lina exclaimed. 

“Why can’t you just build a new one?” demanded Glynda. 

“I just can’t!” Bartholomew replied angrily. 

“Okay, why don’t we all calm down-“ Ozpin tried to break in. 

“What do you mean you just can’t? Are just too lazy? Is that it?” Glynda asked. 

Bartholomew did not reply. 

Glynda groaned. “Why did we end up with such a useless team member? You’re letting us all down! Just build a new stupid weapon!” 

“I’m not useless!” Bartholomew suddenly yelled, standing up as well, “I’m not!” 

“Then prove it and actually pull your own weight! It’s not that hard!” Glynda yelled back. 

“You don’t know anything!” Bartholomew tried to defend himself. 

“I know enough!” Glynda replied, “I know that you’re lazy and can't be bothered to do anything right and I wish you weren’t one of my teammates!”

That was it. In a flash, Bartholomew was gone. 

“You just had to say that, didn’t you?” Ozpin asked, folding his arms. 

“Well, it’s his fault. He should just get his crap together and actually build a new weapon,” Glynda replied. 

“You really think he doesn’t have a good reason?” Ozpin asked, “You should know better. He’s a hard worker. There must be a good excuse.” 

“Why don’t you go and find Barty, and I’ll help Glynda calm down?” Lina suggested. 

“I do not need to calm down!” 

… 

Ozpin eventually found Bartholomew sitting on a bench, at the very edge of the grounds, hidden by some bushes. 

“Can I sit?” Ozpin asked, pointing at the spot next to him on the bench. 

Bartholomew nodded, giggling. 

Ozpin wrinkled his nose. “What are you smoking?” 

“Weed,” Bartholomew replied, “want some?”

“What!?” Ozpin lowered his voice, "Barty that’s illegal! You could get expelled!” 

Barty shrugged. “Then Glynda would be happy,” 

“She didn’t really mean that,” 

Barty giggled again. “She did- you don’t have lie to me- It’s funny really. I finally thought things were getting better, I have a home, friends… But I was wrong. I’m always wrong. I don’t belong anywhere,” he ended in a sob. 

Ozpin gently put an arm around him. 

“And now, I’m back to this,” Barty gestured to his joint, “It all catches up with me in the end; the drugs, cigarettes, the nightmares, the poverty… I can never escape,” 

“Poverty?” Ozpin asked softly. 

Barty laughed again. It was a hollow laughter, empty and drug-fuelled. “Why’d you think my weapon broke? I can’t afford any good parts- I had this great design- it could even turn into a thermos- but I couldn’t afford all the parts. The handle was a bit of piping! I can’t afford to replace- I can barely afford to buy clothes for the rest of my time at Beacon,” 

“Oh, Barty- I’m so sorry I didn’t know-“ Ozpin began. 

“That’s the thing, isn’t it? No one ever knows what’s going on. They just assume the worst. They assume you're lazy. They assume you don’t care… when nothing could be further from the truth.” 

Ozpin pulled Barty into a proper hug, trying to ignore the smell. “I know you care,” 

A few minutes later it wore off, and Barty just sat there, staring at his joint. 

“I can’t believe I did that,” he whispered. He took the joint and threw it in the bin. Then he took a tiny packet out of his coat pocket, and threw that in the bin too. “I said I’d never do it again- once I came to Beacon- I was turning over a new leaf,” 

Ozpin just sat there, not knowing what to say. He dug into his head. Had he ever smoked a drug, of any sort? Did tabaco count? Drugs were a relatively new invention when one considered the history of humanity… He had had alcohol problems a few times but this was different. Barty wasn’t addicted. He just made a mistake. How should he comfort him? 

“We all make mistakes,” Ozpin eventually settled on, “although I have to believe that that doesn’t make you a bad person.” 

Barty looked away. “Then what does make you a bad person?” 

“Stalking your ex across remnant, killing their children, and feeling happy about it,” Ozpin said bitterly. 

“Wh- what?” Barty asked choked, “Are you okay?” 

Ozpin nodded “I’m fine. It’s just an example,” 

Barty coughed. “Okay, at least I’m not that bad,” 

“Come on,” Ozpin said, “let’s go back to the dorm,” 

“Can we go to the canteen first?” 

… 

Bartholomew didn’t know what to think. He’d really messed up. What had come over him? He’d sworn that once he came to Beacon, he’d never smoke another joint again. But then, he’d found a forgotten packet in his coat, and he was upset, and before he knew what he was doing… Ozpin must be so disappointed. 

Bartholomew snuck a glance at his friend. Ozpin’s face was impassive, impossible to read… 

They entered the canteen, and Bartholomew went straight for the bread bole. Fresh bread… crunchy on the outside and soft and fluffy in the middle. Bartholomew closed his eyes as he bit into a roll. These were so good. 

“You want anything with that?” Ozpin asked. 

Bartholomew shook his head. The bread was enough. “Let’s go back and- see the others. I need to apologise to Glynda,” 

“I think she also needs to apologise to you,” Ozpin added. 

Bartholomew shrugged. “She only told the truth,” 

Ozpin put his hand on Bartholomew’s arm, stopping him mid-stride. “She was angry, and nothing she said was true. I’ve only known you for two months, but you are the only partner I could ever want,” 

Bartholomew turned to him. “Do you really mean that?” 

Ozpin nodded. “I do,” 

...

“I’m sorry,” Glynda said, as soon as Bartholomew walked into the room, “I lost my temper and said what I shouldn’t have- You probably have a good reason for not wanting to rebuild your weapon, and I didn’t respect that - I get so stressed when I don’t know what’s going on-“ 

“It’s okay, I accept your apology,” Bartholomew interrupted, “I should have explained anyway- I should trust you all. The thing is I- err- can’t actually afford to build myself a new weapon,” 

Glynda looked surprised. “Oh- I didn’t know-“ 

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way,” Bartholomew interrupted again, eager to change the subject,

“Are we still friends? " Glynda asked. 

Bartholomew thought for a moment and nodded. 

They hugged.   
… 

The next morning, Glynda took Bartholomew aside. 

“I can give you a thousand lien towards your weapon,” she said. 

“What?” Bartholomew asked, aghast, “that’s way too much!” 

Glynda shrugged. “I told my mum that I need a new outfit, and she gave me the money-“ 

“She gave you a thousand lien for an outfit!” Bartholomew exclaimed. 

Glynda blushed. “My mum is a shareholder in the Schnee Dust company… we’re pretty well off. And I need you to know that I’m really sorry about yesterday,”

“Thank you so much!” Bartholomew exclaimed. 

...

His good mood was soon destroyed by their next class. 

“I have an announcement to make,” the teacher said, folding his arms and glaring at the students, “A packet of Marijana was found in one of the bins here on school grounds. Until whoever it belonged to owns up, there will be no missions… for any team,” 

Bartholomew felt his gut sink. Damn. If he didn’t own up… then they would never get to go on any missions. that was a vital part of their huntsmen training. And if he did… he would probably get expelled. He’d have to say goodbye to his team, he’d have to say goodbye to Ozpin… he couldn’t bear the thought. Coming to Beacon, becoming a huntsman… it’s what he lived for. Without it, he would have no purpose. 

As Bartholomew was contemplating what to do, Ozpin raised his hand. 

“It was me, sir,” he said, “I was trying to develop a drug that could be used on Grimm to make them less wary and easier to kill,” 

The teacher looked surprised. “Well, you’d better come with me, young man,” 

Ozpin nodded, stood up, and left with the teacher. 

Bartholomew sat there in shock. Ozpin had just pretended to be the one with weed. Ozpin was in danger of being expelled…

… 

By the time the lesson was over, Bartholomew had made up his mind. He was going to have to own up. He couldn't stand the thought of Ozpin getting expelled in his place. 

He went back to the room first though, planning on spending some time to psych himself up. 

He opened the door… Ozpin was there, sitting on his bed, reading a book. 

“Are you alright?” Bartholomew exclaimed, “What have they done? Did they expel you?” 

Ozpin shook his head. “Nope,” he said smiling. 

“Then did you get a detention?” 

Ozpin shook his head again. “Neither,” 

Bartholomew sat down at the end of his bed. “So you’re not in any trouble… at all?” 

Ozpin shook his head. 

“How?” 

Ozpin looked at his knees. “There’s something that I should probably tell you…” 

“Yes?” 

“I’m not just me,” 

“Not just you?” Bartholomew asked, cocking his head to one side. 

“I’m the culmination of thousands of lives each that reincarnate and merge with the next. The most recent of which was the King of Vale…” Ozpin continued. 

“I’m sorry… what?” Bartholomew asked, dumbfounded. 

“I’ve almost fully merged with the King of Vale, I can barely hear his thoughts anymore, apart from when we really disagree on something. The headmaster knows this, and as such he can’t expel me,” 

“You’re pulling my leg,” 

Ozpin shook his head. He then stilled and seemed to concentrate on something. His eyes glowed yellow, and he stilled. 

“Hello Bartholomew,” he said in a calm and even voice, “I am the King of Vale, as Ozpin was just telling you,” 

Bartholomew gaped at him. “No fu- No effing way!” 

“I assure you that it is true,” the king replied, “Ask me something. Something only I would know,” 

“Uh-“ Bartholomew stuttered, “How did you know that the Duke of Libretuck was planning on betraying you?” 

The king coughed. “His wife thought that uh- if she betrayed him and proved her loyalty to me I would agree to take her as my new wife. Needless to say, that didn’t go in the history books,” 

Bartholomew gaped at him again. “Okay… I believe you,” 

Ozpin’s eyes glowed again, and he took a deep breath. “Oh thank goodness- that’s getting harder and harder the more we merge,” 

“How does the merge work?” Bartholomew asked curiously. 

Ozpin rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t really know to be honest… As far as I can tell when I- he- we? - move to a new ‘host’ our thoughts start to be very similar. We think the same thing, share memories… I find it hard to distinguish myself from the king now, hence why it’s so hard to make him ‘front’,”


	8. Vytal Festival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my excuse for a romantic comedy.

“I can’t believe we’re going to Mistral for the Vytal festival!” Lina exclaimed excitedly, flinging her clothes across the room towards her suitcase. 

They wouldn’t have landed anywhere near it, only Glynda glared the clothes, and they stopped in mid-air, folded themselves and landed neatly in Lina’s suitcase. 

“Thanks, Glynda!” Lina yelled, 

“Ooh- can you help me pack mine too?” Bartholomew asked, knowing full well what the answer was going to be. 

“No.” Glynda folded her arms and sat on the bed. 

…

“Hey, Barty,” Ozpin said, sitting down next to Bartholomew. Bartholomew looked up. He was studying by the pool since Mistral had so many of them. He felt like a prince. 

“Hey,” Bartholomew nodded, looking up from his book. 

“I’ve been thinking about the doubles round,” Ozpin started, “and I think that It should be Glynda and Lina to go through,” 

Bartholomew nodded. “That makes sense,” 

“You’re not upset?” Ozpin ventured. 

Bartholomew shook his head. “Why would I be? They are the obvious choice. I know that you don’t want to go through because you have an unfair advantage, and after you, Glynda is out next best fighter. Lina has more practice fighting with Glynda than me, and in any case, it’s always a good idea to put them together when we can,” 

Ozpin looked up. “Why?” 

“Surely you’ve noticed Lina’s crush on Glynda?” Bartholomew asked. 

Ozpin spluttered. “What? No! I thought Glynda was the one with a crush on Lina,” 

Bartholomew clapped his hands. “That’s brilliant! We should totally set them up! They’d make such a cute couple!” 

“I mean, maybe,” Ozpin said, “although in my experience setting people up usually ends in disaster. Why don’t we leave it for now? They’re going to be in the tournament together anyway,” 

Bartholomew nodded, already plotting. “Alright,” 

…

Glynda stood still, watching their opponents climb onto the platform.

“James Ironwood,” Lina informed her, “He’s the leader of his team. And Rail Khan, his partner. Their quad match was brutal,” 

Glynda nodded. “We didn’t think that Atlas was going to be easy,” 

The two girls readied their stance as the Arena landscape was chosen. Mountain and forest. Okay. That was good. By the looks of it, this Ironwood fellow seemed to be a tank. Melee fighter, and extremely powerful. Fighting in amongst the trees could give Glynda an advantage. It was unlikely that Ironwood could move as fast as her. 

The match started as Glynda nodded towards Lina. They had already come up with an attack plan. Glynda was going to go for whoever was on the right, whilst Peach dealt with the left. 

Then, Glynda was in her zone. Fighting. This was she had been born for. This was what she was good at. What she loved. 

Before Ironwood could so much as lift his sword, Glynda had leapt back into the trees. She scrambled up the nearest one, and ran through the branches, using her semblance to help her jump from one tree to the next. 

Ironwood was just below her, barrelling through the forest. 

Glynda snapped a twig as she peered at him and immediately had to duck as his sword flew towards her head. She grabbed it out of the air, using her semblance once again to help, and flung it back around towards him. She then did a front flip out of the tree whilst Ironwood dodged his sword and pulled it out of the ground where it had embedded itself... 

Ironwood smirked. “Enjoying yourself,” 

Glynda didn’t reply. She couldn’t allow herself to lose focus. As Ironwood swung at her again, she ducked and brought her whip around to his shins. It hit him, but it could barely have done any damage. 

Glynda rolled to the right, came up behind Ironwood, and hit him again. He yelped as she slapped him again with her whip, and turned to try and retaliate. 

Glynda jumped backwards and swung herself up into another tree. They both knew that all it would take was one good hit from Ironwood’s broadsword and Glynda would be out of aura. 

The crowd roared, and Glynda spared a glance up at the board to see that both Lina and Rail were out. Okay. It was down to her now. 

Glynda leapt out of the tree, as Ironwood felled it with his sword. Damn, he was strong. 

The felled tree... Glynda saw her chance. She jumped down the back of her current tree, using her semblance for a softer landing. Then she ran a ring around Ironwood, as quietly as she could, until she was hiding near the fallen tree. 

“Come on,” Ironwood growled, “This isn’t a game,” 

Glynda closed her eyes and concentrated on the tree. It was hard to grab something so large with hr semblance, but it was doable. All she had to do was lift it a little way... and push! 

Ironwood fell over with a gasp. Glynda took her chance, sprang out of the bushes, and finished him off with a good kick to the side. The bell rang, and Glynda knew that she had won!

She helped Ironwood up. “You put up a good fight,” 

Surprisingly, he was grinning. “That was incredible!” he exclaimed, “Please, let me take you out for lunch!” 

… 

Bartholomew was reading yet another book when Lina burst into their shared room. She was in tears. 

“What’s wrong?” Bartholomew asked immediately. Last he had seen, she was celebrating her victory in the stadium. 

“It’s stupid,” she mumbled, and collapsed onto her bed, crying into her pillow. 

Bartholomew immediately went to sit beside her and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “If it made you cry it’s not stupid,”

Lina didn’t answer. 

“Did someone hurt you?” Bartholomew asked softly. 

Lina shook her head. 

“Do you feel sick?” 

Lina shook her head again. “It’s really stupid,” she said again. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Bartholomew reassured her, “just know that I’m here for you,” 

Lina nodded. She continued to sob into her pillow for a good five minutes before she finally looked up and said: “Glynda is going on a date with Ironwood- that guy from the Atlas team,” 

“Oh Lina, I’m so sorry,” Bartholomew whispered. “What can I do to help?” 

“Ice cream,” Lina replied. “I need Ice cream.” 

“Come on then,” Bartholomew said, “I’m pretty sure I saw a gelato café on the main street,” 

...

Glynda didn’t know why she had agreed to come out with Ironwood for lunch. It was stupid really. There was no way she could develop feelings for someone whom she had just met. Especially when Lina was around... 

And maybe that was part of the reason she had come. To take her mind off Lina. Lina... Lina was so perfect. Funny, sweet, kind... No. She was not thinking about Lina. Lina would never like her back. She needed to get over it before her feelings got in the way of their friendship. 

Glynda turned her attention to Ironwood. He had told her to call him James... but she wasn’t sure. Ironwood seemed to fit him better. He certainly looked like he was made of Iron. 

“So, what would you like to eat for lunch?” Ironwood asked, “you can choose anything- my treat,” 

Glynda looked down at the menu shyly. She felt bad. This guy was obviously sweet. Maybe she could grow to like him... It wasn’t like he wasn’t attractive. 

“Roast Lamb please,” she eventually decided. It was the first thing she’d really said... Glynda wasn’t used to being shy but this whole dating thing was so new to her. She didn’t go on many dates as a teen; she had been too busy studying.

“Wonderful choice,” Ironwood replied. “I think I might go for that as well…” 

It was a nice meal if a little awkward. They had a lovely window seat, from which the whole street was visible. 

It was from the window though that Glynda saw Lina and Barty. They were walking together, Lina leaning against Barty, and him with an arm around her. They went into the gelato café opposite and sat down together. Glynda felt her stomach drop. She didn’t know that Lina and Barty were dating. Now she definitely needed to get over Lina. She was straight and dating their teammate. Glynda daren’t get in the way of that. 

She pushed her lamb around her plate, suddenly no longer feeling hungry. She felt angry. Angry at Barty for taking her crush. Angry at herself for being so stupid. 

“Are you alright?” Ironwood asked. 

Glynda nodded. “I’m sorry but I- I can’t do this. I have feelings for one of my teammates and I don’t want to lead you on,”

Ironwood nodded glumly. “Alright,” 

Glynda practically ran out of the restaurant down the street. She wanted to punch something. 

… 

“You have to feel bad for her,” Ozpin said, as he and Barty sat down to study, “Lina’s been crushing on Glynda all year,” 

Barty nodded. “I know; I actually thought she had a chance too,” 

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes.

Suddenly, Ozpin’s scroll buzzed. “Have you met team STRQ yet?” Ozpin asked, looking at the message. 

“Is that the team that you’re mentoring?” Bartholomew asked. 

Ozpin nodded. “They’re a group of fourth years- nice kids. Qrow and Summer have just asked me if I’d like to go get coffee with them. You can come along too if you like?”

Bartholomew nodded. “Do they know about-“ he used his hands to signify a crown on top of his head. 

Ozpin laughed. “You think they’d let a first-year mentor them if they didn’t know?” 

“Well, probably not,” Bartholomew conceded. 

…

Honestly, Bartholomew couldn’t believe that Summer was a fourth year. Maybe it was because she was so short… but she barely looked any older than Oz! 

Qrow on the other hand… He looked at least ten years older than he actually was. He slouched in his chair, had stubble on his chin, and his eyes had a slightly haunted look about them. 

They were quite a pair. 

“Where’s Raven?” Ozpin asked casually, sipping at his hot cocoa. 

Summer shrugged and point at the other side of the café, where Raven was sitting with Ironwood and his team. 

“She’s still mad at us for not letting her go through to the doubles round,” Qrow drawled, “Don’t bother trying to talk to her. She blames you in particular,” 

“Why does she blame Oz?” Bartholomew asked. 

Qrow shrugged. “Any reason not to like anyone- Raven’s not big on relationships,” 

Summer snorted. “That’s putting it lightly. If only she’d accept her feelings for Tai she could stop stringing him along and then rejecting him at every turn,” she said quietly. 

Suddenly Bartholomew saw Lina enter the shop- she was probably back for more Ice cream. He tried to wave her over, but she didn’t see him. She was staring at Ironwood. 

Bartholomew turned to look and gaped. 

Raven and Ironwood… were kissing! 

Qrow stood up and stormed over to them at the same time as Lina started yelling. 

“How could you!” Lina exclaimed, staring into Ironwood’s face. 

Bartholomew was vaguely aware of Ozpin clenching his fists and muttering something beside him. 

Then everything went to hell. Raven, whom Qrow had taken aside, suddenly lashed out and slapped Qrow. Qrow retaliated and knocked Ironwood forwards in the process. Lina saw Ironwood falling towards her, assumed it was an attack; and punched him. 

Ironwood tried to fight back, but Bartholomew leapt forward to protect his teammate. A stray blow from Raven hit him in the arm, and without thinking, he socked her. 

Everyone was yelling and more people were joining in; some probably just for the sake of a fight. Distantly, Bartholomew heard Ozpin yell at everyone to calm down, but it had little effect. 

The door of the café slammed open. Everyone froze. Not intentionally mind you; everyone literally stopped moving in mid-air. People started to float away from the riot and spread out around the café, still unable to move, to reveal Glynda, angrily using her semblance. 

“What is the meaning of this?“ she shouted, letting everyone go. A few people fell over. “You are future huntsmen and huntresses! Is this any way to behave?” 

There was a stunned silence for a few seconds. 

“Ironwood was cheating on you!” Lina suddenly yelled, looking equally angry. 

“What!?” Ironwood exclaimed, “That’s nonsense, I didn’t even-“

“We all saw you kiss Raven!” Lina exclaimed. She then turned to Raven. “And what’s up with that? I thought you were dating Tai! Are you cheating on him too?” 

“Lina-“ Glynda started. 

“Don’t ‘Lina’ me!” Lina yelled, “This is stupid, the whole situation! I can’t stand disloyal people- especially those who hurt my friends-“ 

“Ironwood and I aren’t dating!” Glynda cut in, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

Lina stared at her in stunned silence. “But- the lunch date-“ 

“Glynda walked out as soon as she saw you and Barty- it’s clear she had a crush on your boyfriend,” Ironwood tried to explain. 

“What? We’re not dating!” Bartholomew put in, “I was just comforting Lina over being heartbroken,” 

“Heartbroken?” Glynda asked softly. 

Lina sent Bartholomew an angry look. “That’s none of your business,” she muttered.

There was an awkward silence. 

“Well, if that’s all been sorted out, we may as well go back to our drinks,” Ozpin announced. 

There was a general murmur throughout the room as people went back to their previous conversations. 

“Do you think they’ll be alright?” Bartholomew asked Ozpin, gesturing towards Glynda and Lina. 

Ozpin smiled softly. “Yes, I think they will,” 

…


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst (:

It felt like forever since Bartholomew had seen Theo. Sure, it had only been since last term, but somehow that felt like forever. 

And this time he was going home. Home. At least until he knew if he got the teaching position at Beacon. 

Bartholomew hadn’t been home for years. Granted, that was his decision, but he was starting to move past all that happened now and wanted to return to his roots. There had been good times, even amongst the bad. 

It was almost a surprise to see the house still standing there. The house that he had helped build. The house that he had grown up in. 

Swallowing down any remaining trepidation, Bartholomew knocked. 

And then Theo was there, as lifelike as always, a little older, but still the muscular man he had become. For a second, Bartholomew marveled at how much Theo looked like Da in the dim light (Or even Yalé, although that was not a comparison Theo would appreciate).

They spent most of the evening catching up, talking about trivial matters. 

It was late when Theo finally said, “I’ve been going through some of Da’s stuff,” 

Bartholomew looked surprised. They had never actually gone through their Da’s stuff, not in the nine years that he had been dead. Da’s room had always seemed sacred somehow. Untouchable. 

“What did you find?” Bartholomew eventually asked. 

Theo shrugged. “Mostly old clothes and books that I donated to charity. But also… photos. Lots of photos,” 

“Da kept photos?” 

Theo nodded. “Tons of them. Would you like to see?” 

Bartholomew nodded eagerly. 

The first photos were extremely old. They featured grandparents that neither Theo nor Bartholomew remembered, their own parents as young adults, their mother in huntress gear… 

“Did you know that Ma used to have a bazooka to?” Bartholomew asked in wonder, gently touching the picture. 

Theo shook his head. “No, but you always did take after her.” 

“Do you- do you remember her?” Bartholomew asked. 

Theo nodded. “A little.” 

“I barely have any memories of her,” Bartholomew mumbled, “although I suppose that’s a blessing in some ways-“ 

“How much do you remember? Of Mountain Glenn?” Theo asked. 

Bartholomew shrugged. “I was young- it’s such a blur. Bits and pieces- scraps- nothing concrete,” 

“I’m glad,” Theo mumbled, “I wouldn’t want you to remember that day.” 

They turned a few pages and discovered some baby photos. 

Theo snorted whilst Bartholomew cued, and they turned the page again. 

Theo stopped short. Bartholomew could hear his breathing sped up. It was a photo of Yalé. 

Bartholomew slammed the book shut, and put it aside. 

“It’s okay,” he reassured Theo, “He’s not here. He can’t hurt you,” 

Theo nodded. “Obviously.” Theo stood up and started to pace around the room. 

Bartholomew put a hand on his arm. “Breath- it’s okay-” 

“I know!” Theo snapped, “I just- I just need a minute,” 

Bartholomew nodded. “Tea?” he offered. 

Theo nodded. 

Bartholomew went and brewed some tea, giving Theo some privacy. He wanted to help- but Theo hated seeming weak. Theo would never accept any comfort. Not anymore. So Bartholomew did what he could. 

“I’m so glad Da killed him,” Theo said, gratefully taking a sip of his tea. He seemed to have calmed down now at least, “I don’t know how much longer I would have lasted,” 

Bartholomew looked at his shoes. This had always been a point of contention between them. “I was glad that he was gone. But… I don’t think he deserved to die like that…”

Theo snorted. “Yes, he did. He was evil,” 

“But it wasn’t Da’s place to do that- it made him into a murderer- I was scared of him-” 

“Da was protecting me!” Theo exclaimed, “He did what he had to do! Why would you be scared of Da?” he put his tea down on the coffee table, “He would never hurt us!” 

Bartholomew couldn’t bring himself to look into Theo’s glare. Theo was fiercely loyal to their Da and that would never change. But… “Da wasn't perfect” Bartholomew managed, “I loved him but he had his flaws-”

“What do you mean?” Theo half yelled, “Da loved us! I know he did!” 

“And I’m not denying it!” Bartholomew rebuked, “I’m just saying that he shouldn’t have killed his own brother- no matter what Yalé did!” 

“I know Yalé didn’t hurt you as much as me but, how can you turn a blind eye to all he did!?“ Theo stood up. 

“I’m not!” Bartholomew broke in, standing up as well, “I saw how he hurt you- and me. But Da killing him- Da became a murderer! It would have been better if Yalé had simply gone to jail for the rest of his life!” 

“How is that better? He didn’t deserve to live! You don’t know what he put me through!” Theo yelled. 

“I do- I saw- Don’t you think Yalé ever hit me too? I’m just saying that it wasn’t Da’s place to hand out justice, and it severely messed us up-“ 

Theo slapped Bartholomew. 

The two brothers stared at each other in stunned silence. That had never come to blows before. 

“Barty, I-“ Theo started, face crumpling. 

“Save it,” Bartholomew muttered. He picked up his bag, and without looking at Theo, he marched out of the door. 

This was stupid, he told himself, as he ran through the streets. He didn’t have anywhere else to go, nowhere to stay. And Theo probably didn’t mean it... But that had hurt. Emotionally. The two of them had always been so close. How much must Theo resent him to lash out like that? There had always been an unspoken agreement after Yalé left, that you did not hurt family. Under any circumstances. Theo just broke that agreement. 

Bartholomew felt his eyes prick and stopped in an alleyway to wipe his them on his sleeve. Goodness, he was just as much of a crybaby as he had been five years ago when he left for Beacon. 

There were footsteps at the end of the valley. “Who goes there?” a voice called out. 

Bartholomew froze. Damn, he was stupid. Wandering around these streets at night? He was practically asking to get mugged. 

No. He was a huntsman now. It didn’t matter who it was, he could take them. They couldn’t be as bad as the Grimm. 

“Barty?” The voice suddenly asked, turning on a torch. 

Bartholomew raised a hand, squinting in the light. It was... Zam!? 

“What’ you doing down here?” Zam asked, “Standing in front of my doorway?” 

Bartholomew looked behind him. In the faint light, he could just make out a scrappy blue door. 

“Come on in,” Zam said, voice softening, “You can stay the night,”

… 

Zam’s apartment was small, messy, and yet somehow cosy. It was just three rooms; a living room/kitchen, a bedroom, and a bathroom. 

Bartholomew made his way around the heaps of boxes, spare parts, books and recycling scattered across the floor, and tried to get to the sofa. It squealed horribly when he sat down on it, and sagged almost to the floor. 

Zam winced, flicking a fluorescent light on. “Sorry about that’ . It’s pretty old. I got a double bed in me room da’ we can share. No one wants to sleep on that creaky old thing,” 

Bartholomew nodded, unsure of what to say. It had been so long since he had seen Zam. It was almost unreal. 

“Tea?” Zam offered, making his way to a bookcase that held a microwave and a kettle. 

Bartholomew nodded gratefully. “Yes please,” 

“So how’s Beacon been treating you?” Zam asked conversationally. 

“Good- good- I just graduated,” Bartholomew managed. 

“No way! That’s awesome!” Zam exclaimed, plonking down next to Bartholomew, making the couch make unnatural sounds. 

Zam then turned to look at Bartholomew properly. His brow furrowed, and he gently brought a hand up to Bartholomew’s face. “Did someone hit you?” he asked. 

Bartholomew looked away, embarrassed, and finally remembered to activate his aura. He felt the familiar green glow race across his skin, fixing any blemishes. 

Zam put his arm around him, as the sofa creaked more. 

“This thing is going to collapse in a minute,” Bartholomew mumbled into Zam’s shoulder. 

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Zam replied. The kettle started to whistle, but they ignored it, simply enjoying each other’s company. 

“I hate to ask this but did- was it Theo who hit you?” Zam murmured. 

“How did you know?” Bartholomew croaked. 

Zam shrugged. “Who else would you be visiting down here?” 

Eventually, Bartholomew recounted the whole argument to Zam. And Zam didn’t judge, he didn’t tell him he was a wuss, he didn’t give him unhelpful advice... He just sat there and listened. Zam was good at that. 

“Why don’t we go to bed?” Zam asked eventually, once Bartholomew had finished sniffling. “You’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep,” 

... 

Lying next to Zam was strange, yet oddly comforting. 

Bartholomew couldn’t help but stroke Zam’s soft ears as he hugged him. They never ceased to amaze him. 

Zam giggled. “Stop- i’s tickly,” he mumbled. 

Bartholomew snorted. “Sorry, didn’t realise that you were ticklish,” 

“Well now you know, and you’d better not tell anyone,” Zam whispered. 

“Or what?” Bartholomew taunted. 

“I’ll tickle you to death,” 

...

The next morning, Bartholomew was awoken to Zam kissing him. He was surprised but didn’t move away. He couldn’t quite decide if he liked it or not...

Suddenly, Zam jerked back. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I’m so used to kissing whoever I wake up in bed next to it was just an automatic reaction-“ 

Bartholomew laughed. “Happens a lot does it?” 

Zam pouted. “I’m trying to find the one- so I keep dating around hoping to find them. It never seems to work,” 

… 

Later that day, Zam took Bartholomew back to Beacon on his motorbike. It was exhilarating! The wind in his face, the streets zipping past… It was a bit like using his semblance, only since Bartholomew was a passenger he was able to relax and enjoy the view. 

Zam pulled up by a park. 

“This isn’t Beacon,” Bartholomew said. 

Zam nodded. “Obviously. I just wanted to show you this place that I found. And spend a few more minutes with you before you go away for another year,” 

The two of them wandered around the nice park. 

“You know,” Zam started, “You didn’t pull away this morning,” 

Bartholomew hummed. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. 

“So I was thinking,” Zam continued, “what if we tried this?” 

Bartholomew looked at him in surprise. “You want to- date?” 

Zam nodded. “I know it’s not terribly practical, you being at Beacon and me in the south, but we could make it work. I can come up to Beacon every weekend and stay in a travel lodge. I know we haven’t talked in a long time, but we used to get on so well-“ 

Bartholomew grabbed his hand. 

Zam looked surprised. 

“That’s what couples do, isn’t it? Hold hands?” Bartholomew asked. 

Zam smiled. “Yes,”

… 

From there they regularly met up and went on dates. 

To the bar, to the park, to the theatre… wherever it was they enjoyed themselves. They hung out and held hands and occasionally kissed. 

It was after several months of this that Zam finally asked Bartholomew to stay the night. 

“Come back to my hotel room with me,” Zam offered, “I've got a double bed and an en-suite. It’ll be fun,” he winked. 

Bartholomew felt himself tense up. He was not ready for that. “I- I can’t. I have lots of papers to grade this evening. In fact, I should probably get going…“

Zam sighed. “Alright, I can give you a ride back to Beacon,“

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry if you ship Oobleck with someone other than Zam. They won't last.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bartholomew finally meets Port!

It was irregular for a new member of staff to join part way through the year, 

Of course, apparently this Port fellow had been a TA before when his wife was pregnant or something, and he was now coming back to train full time as a teacher. 

Bartholomew wasn’t thrilled exactly since Port was going to be in his lesson, taking notes on how to teach. He was also supposed to help him, but Bartholomew didn’t need help. Only, maybe Ozpin thought he did if he was assigning a TA to his class… No that was stupid. None of the teachers needed help. Ozpin probably just chose him randomly. 

He walked into the staff lounge, planning on getting some coffee before class. He took a cup, spun around and… Splash! His coffee fell all over someone. 

“What’s the meaning of this?” a short fellow whom Bartholomew had just doused demanded. He was old, with greying hair and a grey mustache, and was wearing a red coat. 

“I’m terribly sorry,” Bartholomew tried to help get the coffee off of the man using a napkin, “I didn’t see you there,”

The man grumbled and pushed past him. Bartholomew shook his head. Rude. 

Bartholomew was horrified to see the man walk into his classroom a few minutes later. The old grumpy man was Port, his new TA! Honestly, he’d expected his TA to be a lot younger. 

“Is there a problem?” Port asked. 

Bartholomew shook his head. “If you would just go and sit at the back…” 

Port walked straight to the front. “Professor Ozpin said that I’d be sitting with you at your desk.” 

Bartholomew looked at his desk and raised an eyebrow. It and the chair were covered in papers. There wasn’t even room for him to sit. 

Port saw the problem. “Ruddy unorganised fool,” he muttered, walking towards the back. 

“I’m sorry?” Bartholomew asked, “Did you expect me to be prepared for a TA who randomly turns up in the middle of the year?” 

“I expected to be assigned to a proper huntsman- not someone who’s been a teacher all their life,” 

“What makes you think I’m not a proper huntsman? You know that the rest if you wouldn’t be able to do your jobs if there weren't dozens of us working behind the scene; educating the next generation, making prediction maps of Grimm movement, keeping an eye on vulnerable villages…” Bartholomew explained, crossing his arms. 

“But how can you teach your students if you haven’t been in the field? How good even are you in a fight?” 

“Good enough,” Bartholomew replied. 

… 

Port was insufferable. 

Every lunch and dinner, he would go on and on about how great he was, and of his many, many adventures. Honestly, Bartholomew wouldn’t be surprised if he was making the whole thing up. 

And there were the rude comments. It hadn’t started out bad, and it was honestly kind of funny, but it was also annoying. 

“Hey Beam-Pole; pass me the salt,” 

“Of course, Dwarf,” 

“What’s the weather like up there?” 

“Shall I get you a ladder?” 

“It must be so awful being that tall, having birds always nesting in your hair like that. Oh, I’m so sorry, that is your hair!” 

“ Don’t mind him, he’s too small to contain that much stupid,” 

It was unprofessional, Bartholomew knew, and the kids were having a field day with their rivalry, but for some reason, Port just rubbed him up the wrong way. 

… 

“He’s just so- so annoying!” Bartholomew grumbled over breakfast. 

Ozpin raised an eyebrow. “Have you ever actually had a proper conversation with him?” 

Bartholomew snorted. “I wouldn’t if you paid me. His head is so far up his a- I mean he’s so arrogant. He thinks that history is a waste of time!” 

Ozpin’s eyes seemed to twinkle. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think that all of your bickering was just friendly banter,” 

Bartholomew rolled his eyes. “But you do know better,” 

… 

“How could you do this?” Bartholomew whined, storming into Ozpin’s office, “This is a terrible idea!” 

“I was under the impression that you needed more man-power,” Ozpin replied.

“Yes but I was thinking of bringing a team along- not having to work with him,” 

“Port is an excellent huntsman, and the two of you will cover each other’s weaknesses well,” Ozpin said. “And besides- I’ve heard that going on dangerous missions with people is an excellent bonding experience,” 

… 

Zam came to waive Bartholomew off, as usual, but it was an incredibly awkward goodbye. They were both being overly polite to each other… it felt so unnatural. They had had another argument, just the night before, about Bartholomew refusing to stay the night with Zam again. He didn’t want to, and Zam was getting impatient. 

“Trouble in paradise?” Port asked as Bartholomew jumped onto the ship. 

“None of your business,” Bartholomew replied. Port had undoubtedly seen the awkward goodbye to Zam. It was a shame. Bartholomew liked Zam. They go on well. He just didn’t want to have sex. And he was NOT discussing his sex life with Port. 

They didn’t talk for the first part of the trip, both ignoring each other as much as possible. But Bartholomew knew it couldn’t stay that way. They needed to plan. 

Eventually, they couldn’t put it off any longer. 

“We need a plan,” Bartholomew started. 

Port snorted. “Please- this isn’t exactly a difficult mission. We go into the abandoned village, retrieve the Grimm forecast records, and leave,” 

“Yes, yes,” Bartholomew said impatiently, “but where are we going to start? Shall we split up to cover ground faster? Do you want to do a ring of the village and work inwards, or start at one end and work our way across?” 

Port shrugged. “We’ll stick together- I don’t want to get in trouble for letting you get yourself killed-“ 

“You’ve never even seen me fight!” Bartholomew protested.

“And we can wing the rest,” Post finished. 

“You’re planning on improvising? Why? Surely it would be more advantageous to-“ 

“Just watch and learn from the pros,” Port broke in, “Just watch and learn,” 

Bartholomew humphed and turned away.

… 

In the end, they decided to sweep the village from one side to the other, if only because they were dropped at the far end. 

It was pouring with rain, hardly ideal conditions, but they did what they had to do. 

The village was crawling with Grimm, and Bartholomew and Port didn’t have a moment’s peace. 

Despite their bickering, they quickly fell into a routine. Bartholomew picked Grimm off that were further away, whilst Port went for the nearer ones. Once they got to a house, Port would cover the entrance, whilst Bartholomew would root around inside, looking for the documents that they needed. 

Towards the evening, they had covered a good half of the village, when Port’s aura broke. 

“Damn,” he swore, pushing himself up from where a Grimm had knocked him over. He then proceeded to keep fighting. 

“I think we should find somewhere to rest for the night,” Bartholomew yelled through the rain. 

“Nonsense!” Port replied, “I can keep going! Unless you’re tired...” 

“I’m not going to risk you getting hurt! Now let’s go and hide in that building over there!” Bartholomew instructed. 

Port grumbled, but followed Bartholomew, not willing to be left out in the rain. 

Inside the house, another Grimm was waiting for them. Bartholomew swore and shot at it. The Grimm immediately died.

At that moment, there was a “creak!” and Port shoved Bartholomew out of the way. 

Bartholomew looked up from the floor as Port yelled in pain. The beam that the Grimm had been sitting on had fallen on his shoulder. 

Bartholomew rushed up to have a look. Blood was already soaking Port’s shoulder, but Bartholomew knew that they were going to have to lift the beam off. It wasn’t safe here. 

Bartholomew swung the pack off his back and quickly took out some bandages. 

“I’m going to lift the beam on three, and apply pressure with the bandages on your shoulder so that you don’t immediately bleed out,” Bartholomew told Port. 

Port grunted. He had gone white and sweating a bit. 

Bartholomew slowly counted to three, pushed the beam up, as he simultaneously applied the bandages. 

He then helped Port sit on the floor to rest. 

“Why did you push me out of the way? I still have aura,” Bartholomew chided as he wrapped extra bandages over and around Port’s arm. 

“You’re so thin it would have gone right through your arm- aura or no,” Port replied. 

Bartholomew didn’t know what to say. He felt like he should probably thank Port. He didn’t particularly want to speak to him though... 

“Thanks,” Bartholomew eventually managed to force himself to say. 

Bartholomew then set up camp. He lit a small fire in the doorway to keep them warm and handed out the roll-mats and sandwiches. 

They sat down to eat. 

“Why are you so thin?” Port asked conversationally, “Don’t you eat enough?” 

“You can’t just ask people that!” Bartholomew replied. 

“Why not?” Port asked. “We’re stuck here together so we might as well get to know each other,” 

“And how do I know you won’t use anything I tell you against me?” Bartholomew asked suspiciously, “I know you can’t stand me,” 

Port looked slightly ashamed. “Is that the impression I give?” 

“Why else would you insult me all of the time?” 

“I thought it was just friendly banter...” Port offered, “I don’t really hate you,” 

“Oh,” Bartholomew looked away. Well, this was awkward.

“Anyway, now that we’ve got that cleared up and we’re friends, you gonna tell me why you don’t eat enough?” 

Bartholomew couldn’t help but glare at him. “I eat plenty- and I’m a healthy weight. Stop judging,” 

Port shrugged. “There’s no story behind it?” 

Bartholomew looked at him, unimpressed. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?” 

Port shook his head. “I want to get to know you,” 

“Fine. We couldn’t afford much when I was little so I learned to eat the bare minimum. Happy?” 

Port looked away. “I’m sorry,” 

“You asked,” Bartholomew muttered. He looked at the fire. Port was just trying to make friends... was he really so damaged that he wouldn’t let him? What would Ozpin think? Bartholomew sighed again. “Tell me about yourself then? You have a wife?” 

“I did have a wife,” Port muttered. Oh. Oops. They were both terrible at this. 

“Uh...children then?” Bartholomew asked. 

Port seemed to brighten up. “Oh yes! I have four children! Two beautiful daughters, and two strapping young lads! Here’s I’ll show you a photo...” Port used his god arm to get out his scroll and found a photo of himself and his four grown-up children. 

“The boys are faunus?” Bartholomew asked in surprise. 

Port nodded. “I adopted them after their village was destroyed. Doesn’t change the fact that they’re family though; I love them as much as my own two daughters!” 

“Can you tell me about them?” 

Port nodded eagerly. “The eldest is Barley- she’s a nurse you know. The best you’ll ever meet. She can heal physical wounds with her semblance. Next is Kai, he’s an engineer. The only one if my children to have a PhD! Then there’s Untzi and Anise, the youngest. They are both in their last year of training to be huntsmen- Untzi is at Shade, near his grandma, and Anise is in Atlas, with Kelsie,” 

“Kelsie?” 

“My ex-wife,” Port explained sadly, “She waited until all the children left home and then divorced me... she’d fallen in love with another man, some rich Atlesian guy, and was cheating on me,” 

“I’m sorry,” Bartholomew murmured. 

… 

They talked till the late hours in the morning, slowly getting to know each other. 

At sunrise, Bartholomew started to pack up. At least it wasn’t raining. 

“Here’s the plan,” he told Port, “I’m going out to find those documents, whilst you call the airship. If I don’t find them by the time the airship arrives, we’ll leave without them,” Bartholomew announced. 

“I want to come with you,” Port announced, “Four eyes are better than two,” 

Bartholomew shook his head. “All your aura is going straight to your shoulder, so it’s barely replenished,” 

Port humphed. “That doesn’t make me useless,” 

“No, but it makes you a liability. I can’t focus on protecting you, myself, fighting and looking for the documents all at once,” Bartholomew explained, “Now stay here while I secure the perimeter and check some more houses,” 

... 

Bartholomew could not find the documents. He checked at least three houses, but none of them had what he was looking for. It was lengthy, tedious work, constantly checking his back for Grimm, and rifling through dead people’s documents, looking for what he needed. 

When he came out of the last house, there was a screech from the air. A Griffon. Brilliant. Just what he needed. 

Bartholomew dashed forward, weaving left an right, avoiding the Griffon’s feathers. He needed some cover that he could shoot from... 

There was a nearby tree that Bartholomew ran to it and hid behind. Then he loaded his bazooka, jumped around the tree, and fired. Thank goodness it was a young Griffon and fell for his ploy. The Griffon screeched and dived towards the ground. Bartholomew ran out of the way, jumped up, and climbed onto the Griffon. He then shot it in the back of the head several times, until it finally disintegrated into ash. 

He wiped the dirt off of his trousers and looked up to see Port gaping at him from the airship. 

“That was bloody incredible!” Port exclaimed as Bartholomew sat down next to him so that the ship could take off, “I’ve never seen anyone think so fast!” 

Bartholomew smiled shyly. “Well, speed is kind of my thing,” He then noticed a crate next to Port. “What’s in there?” he asked. 

Port grinned. “I found the documents!” 

“You did?” Bartholomew asked amazed, “where were they?” 

“In the village hall- along with every other important community document,” Port explained. 

Bartholomew slapped his forehead. “How could I have been so stupid?” 

“I dunno- I wouldn’t call someone who just lured a Griffon to the ground moments after seeing it stupid,” 

...

Bartholomew considered Port a friend after that. Their friendly banter continued, and probably would for years, but Bartholomew no longer resented it. He even looked forward to it. 

The two of them soon fell into the tradition of having afternoon tea together once a week, to catch up on the latest news and discuss things. Or sometimes to mark papers. Being a teacher was hard work. 

Of course, It wasn’t long until Bartholomew took Port to the Black and Cyan café run by Arabelle and Cyan. 

Treasure was always there and would greet Bartholomew with muddy paws and licks to the face. Bartholomew didn’t mind though, and would even allow Treasure to sit on his lap, as big as Treasure was. 

It was nice; Arabelle, Cyan, and Port got on well. It was soothing. Bartholomew felt... happy.


	11. Bars and misunderstandings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I imagined this chapter such a long time ago it's amazing to finally publish it! 
> 
> Also, TW for talk about suicide.

It only took a few months for Bartholomew to figure out why his and Zam’s relationship wasn’t working. Zam thought that Bartholomew was deliberately refusing to take their relationship to the next level as a way of controlling him. The reality was that Bartholomew just wasn’t interested. He liked Zam, he enjoyed hugs and kisses, but anything more... Nah. 

There was a word for this, Bartholomew found out. Asexual. He wasn’t sexually attracted to anyone. Of course, he would have another thing to deal with. Like he didn’t have enough to think about already. Even if it was nice to know that there were others like him and he wasn’t the only person completely uninterested… 

In any case, he needed to come out to Zam. Then Zam would understand, and they could be a normal couple again. Probably. Unless Zam didn’t accept him. But he would? Wouldn’t he?

… 

That Friday, they tried out a new bar. Usually, Bartholomew and Zam always went to the same place that they had frequented since they were kids, but it was closed for refurbishment. 

The evening started off pretty well. They were awkwardly quiet and started commenting on the attire of other people in the bar, such as the Duke of NorthVale, who was wearing a disgustingly bright orange suite. 

“I didn’t realise this bar was this posh,” Zam muttered, “We’re surrounded by celebrities. However, did you reserve a place?” 

Bartholomew blushed slightly. “Perks of being a huntsman,”  
They started to talk more after that, and the tension started to dissipate. 

“Everyone’s doing pretty well,” Zam told him, “Arabelle and Cyan's cafe is going well. Theo’s got a permanent job at the garage with me…” 

“That’s good,” Bartholomew said quietly. 

“You know we miss having you around,” Zam said quietly. 

Bartholomew nodded. “I know, I miss you guys too. But my life is here now. Putting knowledge in the hands of my students, saving people’s lives… I wouldn’t change it for the world,” 

“And I would never ask you too,” Zam leaned in closer, “You know, maybe you could come back to my place after this?” Zam winked. 

Bartholomew sighed. “I- not yet,” 

Zam pouted. “Come on- you’ve never spent the evening over at mine! How long do I have to wait until you’ll agree to have sex-“ 

Okay; he had to do it now before this turned into an argument. He had to- he had to come out. 

“I'm asexual,” Bartholomew said in a rush, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I don’t want to ever do that with someone. I’m just not interested. I’m sorry. I really like you Zam, and I want to kiss and hold hands and go on dates- but nothing more- I don't- can’t feel about you in that way…” 

“Oh,” Zam said. 

There was an awkward silence. 

Zam stood up. “You should have told me before,” he stated. Then he left. 

Bartholomew lay his head in his arms miserably. Well, that went about as poorly as it could have. So much for coming out to his friends. He really thought Zam would accept him. He was gay after all. He must know about lgbtq+ issues. 

“Drink, sir?” a waitress asked. 

“One mocktail,” Bartholomew replied. He had a rule against drinking alcohol when he was upset. 

The waitress went over to the bar to prepare the drink. If you watched closely, you would notice that in the middle of preparing the drink, someone asked for a refill of Vodka. The waitress turned away for a second, and a second person poured something into one of the drinks. 

The Waitress didn’t notice and continued making the drinks.

Bartholomew didn’t notice either. Not until he had had a mouthful of his mocktail anyway.

He gagged. Bleurgh! What in Remnant was that? The mocktail had a disgusting flavor to it! 

Not wanting to make a fuss, Bartholomew put the mocktail aside and discreetly left the bar. 

Half an hour later he was regretting not making a fuss. His head was spinning and he had broken out into a cold sweat. Damn. What had been in that drink? Poison? Okay. Instead of going back to Beacon he had better go to the hospital. 

The emergency room was almost empty at this time of night, save for a couple of students, one of whom had a teapot stuck on their hand. 

Bartholomew stumbled up to the desk. “I consumed poison,” he managed, before collapsing. 

… 

When Bartholomew awoke, he was lying down… His chest felt uncomfortable, and he soon realised that there was a breathing tube giving him air. 

He forced his eyes open. Ozpin was sitting there. He obviously hadn’t noticed that Bartholomew was awake yet. 

Bartholomew tried to speak, realised he couldn’t because of the breathing tube, and tried to move his hand instead. His muscles were stiff and painful, but at least he could move. Who knew what he had been poisoned with? 

Ozpin’s eyes flew to look at Bartholomew’s face, full of hope. 

“You’re awake,” Ozpin breathed, “Oh thank goodness,” 

Bartholomew tried to smile, but again, couldn’t, so he resorted to blinking slowly. Like a cat. Hopefully, Ozpin would understand. 

Ozpin put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s going to be alright now,” he murmured. It struck Bartholomew that it seemed he tried to be reassuring himself as much as anyone else. 

"Theo stopped by earlier, but he had to leave in time for his next shift at the garage," Ozpin continued. 

Bartholomew couldn't help but frown. 

"And Zam is outside… he's quite angry I'm afraid," 

Bartholomew's frown deepened. 

Ozpin sighed. "Now that you're awake your aura can start working. You'll be able to leave by morning… we can talk then," 

… 

Morning came, Bartholomew's aura did its job, and he was back to normal. 

No one was treating him normally though. The doctors kept talking in hushed voices around him as if they were worried they might upset him. And a nurse, was she the receptionist from yesterday? Randomly hugged him and told him that all the hospital staff cared about him. It was most odd. Was that how they treated all their patients? Or was it because he was huntsman?

Zam tried to yell at him as soon as they saw each other, and got himself kicked out of the hospital. He wasn't around when Bartholomew finally got outside. 

And then there was Ozpin. Ozpin, who kept squeezing his hand and telling him it was going to be alright? What the frick was going on? 

Honestly, it was a relief to get to Beacon. Bartholomew had quite a lot of trouble ditching Ozpin, which he felt mildly bad about, but honestly. He was fine. The poison hadn't killed him and his aura had fought it off.

He ended up hiding in Port's office. 

"Everyone's treating me like a glass feather," Bartholomew grumbled over tea, "and I don't even know why!" 

"I could ask for you," Port offered, "Every I'm sure it's nothing- they just had a fright. It's not every day someone tries to murder a huntsman," 

"About that," Bartholomew said, "I don't actually think that I was the target," 

"Oh?" 

"You've seen the morning news?" 

"About that duke who was murdered? Nasty business. Was killed in an alleyway, apparently. Stabbed to death. They think it was an assassin,” 

“Well I saw him at the bar last night- the duke I mean,” Bartholomew explained, “I’m willing to bet the poison was meant for him,” 

“And the assassin put the poison in the wrong drink,” Port understood. “Well, too bad for the duke the assassin didn’t give up,” 

... 

Bartholomew had retired to his classroom; it was a Saturday and no one was around. 

Just then, Port came marching in. He closed the door behind him and cautiously walked up to Bartholomew. 

“I talked to Ozpin,” Port started. 

“What did he say?” Bartholomew asked eagerly. 

“Well,” Port mopped his brow, “He seems to be under the impression that you took the poison yourself in... a suicide attempt,” 

“What?” Bartholomew half yelled, “I would never! At least... not now!” 

Port seemed relieved. “So you really were poisoned by the assassin?” 

“Yes! Of all the ridiculous things to believe- where did he even get that idea?” 

“Apparently the hospital said you’d admitted it,” Port offered. 

Bartholomew frowned. What was it that he had said to the receptionist yesterday? He slapped his forehead as he remembered. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He hadn’t meant it like that! 

“I’ve got to find Ozpin!” he yelled, running out of the room.

… 

Bartholomew knew exactly where to find Ozpin. It wasn’t like Ozpin went anywhere other than his room when he was upset anyway. 

"Can I talk to you?" Bartholomew asked awkwardly, poking his head around the door. 

"Of course," Ozpin replied immediately, patting the spot next to him on the sofa. 

Bartholomew entered and sat down, taking a deep breath. "About what happened yesterday-" 

"It's alright, " Ozpin interrupted. "You don't have to explain yourself. Just know that I'm here for you, and whatever you're going through, it will get better-" 

"I was poisoned!" Bartholomew interrupted, "I think it was the assassin trying to kill the duke!" 

There was a moment of astonished silence. 

"You didn't take it yourself?" He Ozpin softly. 

"I didn't - I promise," Bartholomew replied, "I'm happy now, here at Beacon… I have friends, a job… You guys have become my family. I would never leave that," 

Ozpin’s eyes filled with tears. Bartholomew gently slipped his arms around him.

"I thought - I thought - for a moment that I was going to lose you, " Ozpin whispered, "and it would be my fault because I didn't see... Couldn't help… I've lost friends that way before - I know what it's like to be in a dark place- and to think that that could have been you- I- I-" 

"It's okay, I'm here," Bartholomew murmured, "I'm alive, and I'm not going anywhere. And if anyone ever commits suicide then it wouldn't be your fault, no matter how close you were to them," 

Ozpin continued to so onto Bartholomew's top. Bartholomew gently lifted a hand to his face and took Ozpin's glasses before he crushed them. 

"It's okay," he continued to whisper, " I'm okay, " 

…


	12. Saying Goodbye

It had been months since Bartholomew had last seen Zam. They were on speaking terms again, after Bartholomew had explained about the assassin, but their relationship was still strained. 

So it was a surprise to Bartholomew when Zam phoned him up one evening, saying that it was important that Bartholomew talked to him. 

Zam turned up an hour later on his motorbike. He didn’t tell Bartholomew what was going on and instead told him to get on. Bartholomew trusted Zam. He trusted that this was important, so he did. 

They drove for a bit and then stopped in front of the hospital. “Why are we here?” Bartholomew asked as Zam climbed off of the bike. 

Zam looked at his feet. “It’s Theo- please come in- he wants to see you,” 

Bartholomew took in a sharp intake of breath. “What’s wrong with Theo?” 

“I’ll let- I’ll let him explain,” Zam muttered. 

Bartholomew followed Zam into the hospital. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me that Theo was sick?” Bartholomew asked. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Zam whispered. 

Bartholomew didn’t know what to reply to that. It was true, he and Theo hadn’t spoken since “the fight”. But would he really not come to the hospital if Theo was asking for him? What if Theo was dying? 

Bartholomew’s pace sped up. “He’s not dying... is he?” 

Zam did not reply. 

When Bartholomew finally got to Theo’s room, he stopped short. Of course, he knew it was going to be bad if Theo was dying... But Theo looked so ill, it was uncanny. 

He was so thin, and his skin a sickly yellow colour. Nonetheless, Theo smiled. 

“Hey,” he said in a hoarse voice 

“Hey,” Bartholomew replied. 

They stared at each other.

Zam coughed and left the room.

Bartholomew slowly approached Theo’s bed. “What- what’s happened?” 

“Cancer,” Theo replied, “Guess all those years of smoking caught up with me,” 

Bartholomew felt his eyes prick. Theo had cancer! Cancer! It was one of the few illnesses not curable by aura since aura didn’t couldn’t be told to fight its own cells. Why hadn’t he known? 

“Aw, don’t give me that face,” Theo said, “It’s not like we talk much anyway,” 

“Why... didn’t you tell me?” Bartholomew asked softly, trying not to cry. 

Theo looked away. “I didn’t want to bother you- but- it’s too late now. I need to talk to you,” 

“What do you want to say?” Bartholomew asked, sitting down next to Theo, and putting an arm over him. 

Theo took a deep breath. Or tried to. It was more of a rasp. Then he looked at Bartholomew dead in the eye. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m sorry I hit you, I’m sorry I didn’t apologise sooner, I’m sorry I couldn’t look after you better when we were little... I’m sorry we’ve drifted apart so. Please... forgive me ?” 

There were now tears in Theo’s eyes too. 

Bartholomew nodded. And then he started to cry. Theo weakly pulled him into a hug, as Bartholomew cried onto his chest. 

... 

Over the next few months, Bartholomew visited Theo almost every day. It’s like their friendship had been restored to as it was when they were children. It was just sad that it had taken such a tragedy for them to make up. 

And of course… It didn’t last forever. Theo got sicker and sicker until one day… he was gone. 

The whole gang, save Taupe, was there. Theo died with a smile on his face, surrounded by his family. For that’s what they were really; they weren’t related but they were family. The hospital even made an exception on the no-pets rule and allowed Treasure to join them. 

Later that evening, Arabelle and Cyan gave Bartholomew a lift home in their van. 

Bartholomew was barely aware of their presence. He didn’t even register himself stroking Treasure in the back seat. 

He felt overwhelmed. Theo... Theo was dead. Dead. Bartholomew was now the last of his family. The last Oobleck. The name would die with him. 

He barely registered Cyan stopping the van in front of Beacon, or Cyan borrowing his scroll to call Ozpin. He didn’t even respond when Cyan helped him out of the truck, and Ozpin gave him a hug. 

Eventually, he was sitting in Ozpin’s room, on the sofa, mug of hot chocolate in hand. 

“I just... can’t believe it,” he whispered. 

Ozpin nodded and gently rubbed circles on his back. 

“He- one minute he was there and then... he’s gone,” 

Ozpin nodded again. 

Bartholomew took a sip of the hot chocolate before putting it down and taking his glasses off to clean them. He didn’t put them back on. There was no point. He couldn’t see past his tears anyway. 

... 

The next few months were difficult, to say the least. 

Bartholomew felt like he was walking through treacle. 

And yet... through every second of it, his friends were there. 

He even went back to see the old school councillor, just to be sure he wouldn’t fall back on his old habits. 

He visited The Black and Cyan café even more frequently, relishing in the peace and his friend’s presence. And of course, trying to stop Treasure from licking his face was soothing in its own way. 

It was almost strange, he contemplated. It hurt, it hurt so very much... But unlike when he was a teenager, he didn’t try to suppress the hurt. It was good he realised. The hurt proved that he had loved Theo. And it was healthy to sort through it. Because although life would never quite be the same without Theo (or would it? They hadn’t talked much), it was liveable. There was light at the end of the tunnel. He would be happy again. But for now, he would grieve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. This was a long fanfic. I hope you guys enjoyed! I wanted it to have a happy ending, but I also need Theo dead for a future fanfic... so it ended up bittersweet.


End file.
